


light up the sky

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [17]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Shance Big Bang 2017, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: There was no reason for him to be so upset. Lance let out a groan and buried his head in his arms, ears gone pink. So Shiro had a crush on Allura, so did Lance. Big deal. So Shiro liked to almost inappropriately touch Keith and be overly familiar toward him like they were boyfriends or something, so what? Maybe they were justreallyclose friends. Or maybe Lance was trying too hard to buy into his own delusions and was just going to end up majorly disappointed. Lance groaned again, louder now, and then lifted his head and squinted out at the water.Had it only been aweekhe’d been mooning over Shiro?





	light up the sky

Lance sat with his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, and watched Shiro very desperately try to ignore him. There was a pale pink flush to Shiro’s face, it looked like he might even be sweating ever so slightly. Lance tilted his head, brow furrowed, as he tried to determine what, exactly, was wrong with their leader. As he was staring at Shiro, Shiro raised his head and caught Lance’s eye, then actually fully _blushed,_ his gaze darting away like he was scalded by the action.

“What do you think’s wrong with him?” Lance wondered aloud when he was in the training room with Keith. Keith was actually using the training room for its intended purpose, working through a few sets of vaguely martial arts moves while attempting to ignore Lance sitting on his heels on the edge of the mat. “I mean, space flu is a distinct possibility here.”

“I think you’re over-thinking it,” Keith said, finally stopping long enough to swipe his hand across his forehead to clear his bangs away. He shot Lance an irritated look. “Now either get on this mat and practice with me, or go _away._ ”

But he wasn’t over-thinking it. Shiro didn’t act this way around Pidge or Hunk, or even to the same extent around Coran or Allura. Keith, though — the tips of his ears sometimes went red around Keith, and he seemed to find a constant reason to be touching Keith when they stood close. It would be a hand on his shoulder, or settled on his waist, or lightly touching the small of Keith’s back as they leaned over one of the display consoles in the ready room. Lance’s chest tightened with jealousy at the casual way Shiro trailed his fingers up Keith’s back as he stood just slightly ahead of Shiro, both of them listening intently to Allura speak.

Shiro didn’t do any of _that_ with _him._

No, he just refused to meet Lance’s eye and blushed like a schoolgirl whenever Lance caught him out at it, because _that_ wasn’t weird or unsettling at all.

“Man,” Hunk said, as Lance laid on his back on Hunk’s bed and complained about How Weird Shiro Was Acting, Hunk, Isn’t This Really Weird, “why don’t you just _talk_ to Shiro?”

Lance flailed himself upright, one hand on his chest, affronted. As if that idea hadn’t occurred to him at _least_ fifteen times and he always fucking lost his nerve first.

So.

There was this great big whole nebulous ‘talking to Shiro’ thing, which Lance was pretty certain was a No Go because not _only_ did he not have the guts or fortitude to just approach Shiro and ask What The Actual Fuck Is Going On, Fearless Leader, and Why Are You Looking At Me Like You’re A Dog In Heat; and then there was doing exactly what he _had_ been doing, which was annoying the remainder of his teammates to death and living in his bunk with his hand down his pants and thinking about how cute it was that Shiro’s blushes always started at his ears.

Wait, wait, _wait._

Lance flung himself upright in a flurry of sheets, knocking his favorite eye mask askew as he stared into the teal-lit dimness of his room in the middle of the ship’s night-cycle. Shiro had been avoiding him for almost a week, now — Hunk had rolled his eyes and called Lance delusional, because Shiro still ate with them and trained with them but Lance had been paying _attention._ Shiro always seemed to put the largest distance between himself and Lance. There was _absolutely_ no reason for him to be doing this, unless….

“Holy shit,” Lance said, and pulled his eye mask completely off, letting it drop into the mess of his covers. “Shiro’s in _heat._ ”

 

#

 

Lance hadn’t presented.

It wasn’t unusual for his family to present late, if they presented at all — his uncle hadn’t presented as an alpha until he was almost twenty years old and already _in_ a relationship; and really, both of his parents were betas so the chances were low that he would even present in the first place. Lance had never let it bother him, his best friend was a beta, most of his classmates were betas, most of the general _population_ were betas, that was just the way things were. And, well, life had gotten a whole lot more complicated recently what with this whole ‘flung a few galaxies away, busy saving the universe from certain destruction’ thing, so he really hadn’t even thought about it lately.

But _Shiro._

There was no way that Shiro could be an omega, was there? He was a legend at the Garrison even before the Kerberos mission; if he had been known to be an omega that would have been all _over_ the news cycle given the presumed pilot error. Lance stood in the center of his room and pushed his hands through his hair and thought, _this is ridiculous. This is insane. There is no way, no WAY—_

He paced the room a few times, and was nearly out of his room to kick in Hunk’s door and try to explain to him this brand-new absolutely off-the-wall revelation he’d had when he remembered that Hunk could sleep through live fire training exercises and Lance pounding on his door at the Altean equivalent of two thirty in the morning would rouse everyone _but_ Hunk.

Besides, if Shiro was an omega, why wasn’t _Keith_ acting on it?

Back to pacing. Lance was going to wear a rut in the floor of his quarters if he kept this up. Maybe, just maybe … Keith wasn’t an alpha…? Lance had kind of assumed that he was, he certainly _acted_ like the handful of alphas Lance had known at the Garrison. Not that anyone on the castle-ship had had _that_ discussion, not yet … no one had brought it up. Maybe it was possible that Keith _wasn’t_ one. He and Shiro were close, yes, distressingly, lack-of-personal-boundaries-in-public close, but Lance had never seen them do anything other than touch each other and stand uncomfortably close.

None of that explained Shiro’s behavior toward him, though. All that was really left for Lance to do was observe how Shiro reacted if he got close. He was probably misinterpreting something … maybe. Lance flopped back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling and thought, _the leader of Voltron is an omega. What the_ actual _fuck._

 

#

 

Lance’s nose itched.

The first thing Lance did was stare down Shiro at breakfast. He seemed completely oblivious to Lance’s frustrated curiosity. Maybe he _was_ wrong, maybe Shiro had just been feeling out of sorts and it was Lance who was catching him at it; which would go some lengths to explain the blushes and the nervous glances away. Maybe it really, really was space flu.

Shiro glanced over at Lance once, realized the intensity of Lance’s scrutiny, and promptly turned a very endearing shade of pink. Startled at the shift, Lance dropped his spoon into the overflowing bowl of food goo, which led to Keith calling him a freak, which led to Lance flailing his arms indignantly, which in turn _then_ led Lance into throwing his goo-covered spoon at Keith. It actually landed — either because Keith was sleepy, or was genuinely not expecting Lance to resort to _spoon-flinging_ — leaving a clump of green goo in Keith’s bangs and murder in his eyes.

In the end, it took both Hunk and Shiro to separate them. Pidge didn’t move from her spot at the table, shoveling goo into her mouth like it was popcorn and clearly enjoying the breakfast entertainment. “Lance, Keith,” Shiro said, exasperation overriding the color on his face. “Both of you in the training room, five minutes.”

“You know, sparring with him isn’t really a _punishment_ ,” Keith remarked, glaring at Lance and missing the way Shiro’s eye glinted.

Turned out, their punishment today was laps. Lots, and lots, and _lots_ of laps. Shiro kept half an eye on the two of them to make sure that there wouldn’t be any more spats, but he was frequently distracted; and with Lance puffing along about half a lap behind Keith and determined _not_ to let _Keith_ get done _first_ he wasn’t quite sure what kept Shiro distracted. By the time they were done his lungs were burning and Lance was so worn out he couldn’t even muster the indignation for when Keith — huffing, and as red in the face as Lance was — insulted his stamina.

Lance _did_ catch the weird twitch on Shiro’s face when Keith said that.

What the _hell_ , man.

“I think we’d know if Shiro was an omega,” Hunk said, squinting into the delicate part of the Galra blaster he was disassembling for some reason. He might have been making a bomb. Lance wasn’t sure.

“No shit,” Lance said, this time lying on his back on the floor because it was too much effort to sit in a chair. “But he _is_ . I just don’t get why he’s acting like that around _me_ , not Keith or you or even Pidge. Heck, do we even know if _she’s_ presented? If she starts going into heat it’s gonna cause problems, I’m calling it now.”

“Pidge is an alpha,” Hunk said around the screwdriver in his mouth. “And she’s not into dudes, Lance.”

Lance opened his mouth, thought about it, and closed his mouth. While it wasn’t unheard of for the desperation of heat to override sexual preference, if Pidge was an alpha she wouldn’t be going into heat anyway. “Yeah okay, fine. So why isn’t Shiro getting weird and blushy around _Pidge_ then, if he’s an omega?”

“Because he’s not.”

“ _Hunk._ Bro. Pal. Work with me here.”

“I don’t _know_ , Lance. I still think you should just talk to him.” Hunk put down his screwdriver and frowned at Lance. “You’re a beta like me. _If_ he was an omega — and I guarantee you he’s not, okay, but just for the sake of hypothetical here — you wouldn’t be tripping all his happy buttons.”

Lance put one hand on his chest, affronted. “ _Dude._ ”

“You’re a beta, Lance,” Hunk said, his attention returned to Galra blaster he was squinting at. As if his classification wasn’t something that Lance was _intimately_ familiar with.

Lance crossed his arms and huffed at Hunk. “My uncle didn’t present until he was _twenty_ ,” he informed Hunk, nose in the air. “And _he_ was an alpha. It _does_ run in my family.”

“Congratulations,” Hunk said, mostly ignoring Lance again. “If you’re an alpha I’ll eat my shoe.”

Lance wasn’t entirely sure how long heats lasted, anyway, so there was no yardstick for him to determine if Shiro’s strange behavior was going on for an excessively long time or not. He didn’t want to ask if Pidge knew anything, because despite being the same age he’d mentally assigned her the role of little sister, and one did _not_ go asking their _little sister_ questions about _sex_. It just wasn’t done.

Although, if she was an alpha she would be able to smell that Shiro was an omega and confirm it for him once and for all, so there _was_ that….

Lance was still tossing around that valid train of thought later in the day while he paced the corridors of the ship, trying to burn off the nervous energy that was making him jittery when his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the distinct scent of … _something._ Lance had never smelled anything like it before, it made his nose itch in a not-unpleasant way, and he rubbed his hand over his nose as he stood stock-still in the middle of the hall and tried to figure out what it was that was making his skin prickle.

He was near the loading bays for the Lions, and the long, looping corridor held a door for each of the five bays. Lance hadn’t planned to swing by and see Blue but since he was down here, maybe sitting in the cockpit of the Blue Lion and communing with the ancient, sentient alien technology would help settle the weird shiver that had taken hold.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get that far. Coran’s voice broadcast over the castle, wanting all the paladins to report to the bridge immediately. Lance let out a long huffing groan and spun on his heel, heading doggedly for the nearest lift and scratching his nose again as he did so.

His nose _still_ itched.

 

#

 

“Okay, but,” Lance said, his hands on his hips as Allura watched him, her eyebrow raised. “Why are you taking _Keith?_ You’re not expecting shit to go down, right? He’ll start a war!”

Keith glared at Lance, arms folded, standing beside him. Allura mimicked his pose unconsciously, folding her arms and giving Lance a sour look. “It is simply a diplomatic delegation,” Allura said. “I must meet with the heads of the cabinet in a parliament setting — the Segn were once allies of the Alteans, and will likely stand with us again. Keith is…” she glanced at Keith a moment, and Lance flung his arms out indignantly.

“A bodyguard,” Keith suggested.

“Bull _shit_ ,” Lance exclaimed, as the doors opened at the edge of the bridge. Shiro was the only Paladin lagging behind this time, which was unusual for him. When Lance glanced back at him he could see that Shiro’s hair was still slightly damp, he must have been in the showers. Lance whirled on his heel and faced Shiro, pointing at Keith. “Keith doesn’t have a diplomatic bone in his body!”

Shiro gave Allura a puzzled look, avoiding looking directly at Lance. “I agree — Princess, what’s going on?”

“Ha!” Lance said, and Keith’s scowl deepened.

Allura did not look pleased that Shiro had unknowingly undermined her. “Because of their beliefs, the Segn will only allow three to enter their Holy Castle,” she said, sounding frustrated. “You’ll be accompanying me, of course, Shiro, as will Keith—” Keith gave Lance a smug look, and Lance huffed again. “This isn’t up for debate, Lance.”

“Shiro agreed with me,” Lance said.

Shiro sighed and rubbed his hand over his jaw, giving Keith a sidelong look. “While it is true that Keith’s strengths tend to lie in a different direction,” he said tactfully, “it _would_ be a valuable learning opportunity on the strengths of diplomacy.”

“I can be diplomatic,” Keith protested, ears coloring red.

Lance scoffed. “No you can’t, you’d punch things first.”

“I don’t _have_ to punch everything I see,” Keith returned hotly, turning slightly to better face Lance.

“No, but I bet you _want_ to!”

“If it has _your_ face on it, yeah!”

“That’s _enough_ ,” Shiro said firmly, putting his arm between Keith and Lance and separating them, as they had both edged closer and were clearly looking for another fight.

Pidge, who had been half-listening to the entire debate, leaned back from her seat. “The Segn don’t like Galra,” she commented helpfully.

Allura’s eyebrow twitched, just a little. “Very few races do.”

“They really, _really_ don’t like them,” Pidge said in an almost sing-song voice. She tapped something on the holographic keyboard displayed in front of her, which tossed the information to Allura’s screen. “They have biometric scanners.” Her glasses were glinting, and she was smirking that evil, wicked smirk she had when she was up to shit and didn’t care who knew. Lance didn’t really want to know _what_ shit Pidge was up to, but was grateful just that she appeared to be on his side for the moment.

Shiro frowned, and looked to Allura; who had a similarly distressed expression as she studied the readout. “We can’t risk being turned away by the Segn,” she said with a deep sigh.

“What are the chances that a biometric scan is going to pick up anything?” Keith said angrily. “I mean, Shiro’s _arm_ is Galra.”

“I don’t know,” Pidge said. “Let me scan you, Keith. Get some DNA samples. See what I find.”

“No one is scanning anyone,” Allura said, and Pidge made disappointed noises and retreated back into her chair. “Keith, I’m sorry, but Pidge is right on this. We absolutely cannot risk it. The Segn are a valuable resource.” She folded her arms and looked toward Lance with a frown. “So I guess you _will_ be coming along then, Lance.”

Lance grinned triumphantly, and Keith groaned quietly.

 

#

 

Lance padded into the launch bay wearing his regular clothes. “No armor,” Allura had said, which was odd but not entirely out of the realm of the unusual. Pidge had said that the Segn were a mostly peaceful race, pacifistic by nature, so how they were going to be of use in a war Lance wasn’t going to question. His bayard was tucked into the pocket of his jacket though, because like hell he was going anywhere without his magical space transforming weapon.

Allura was standing by the shuttle with Coran, and she half-turned, clearly not expecting Lance yet. Lance didn’t let the flash of disappointment on her face even slow him down. “No armor, right?” he said, and stopped in front of them, hands in his jacket pockets. “You are looking lovely today, Princess.”

She was wearing a different dress than her everyday castle clothing; the material looked lighter and gauzier. It was a little fancier but not out of line with what he’d begun to recognize as Altean style. Allura took the compliment gracefully, and then looked Lance up and down and shaking her head sharply once. “Oh no,” she said. “No, you’re not wearing _that_.” She glanced over at Coran, who was giving Lance a considering look.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Lance said, indignant, as Coran stepped forward and took Lance by the elbow. Coran steered him back out of the shuttle bay and already launching into A Brief History of Altean Clothing Design, as filtered through Coran, so there was a sidebar about Wallynicks And Their Insatiable Desire For Clothing Made From Rasnuff Fiber. Which, to be fair, was pretty interesting because Wallynicks sounded both terrifying and _awesome_ (something that seemed to describe an unreasonable amount of Altean fauna), but by the time Lance escaped Coran and returned both Allura and Shiro were waiting on him and looked a little put out.

Shiro was wearing an outfit not dissimilar to the one that Coran had thrown at Lance; a tunic and trousers combo made of a light, airy material. It was, of course, cut in the Altean style — giving it a layered look — and atop the tunic Shiro was wearing a thin jacket that had the same stylized V as their Paladin armor but smaller, above the right breast. Shiro raised his eyebrow at Lance and, regrettably, this time he did not turn pink.

“Sorry,” Lance said. “Coran was telling me about a diplomatic excursion to a volcano planet to get some material for the Red Lion, which I don’t know why he’s telling _me_ that, sounds like a _Keith_ story to me.” He held out his arms for Allura, who had raised one eyebrow, and did a little twirl which sent the short cape attached to his shoulders fluttering. “Do I pass muster, Princess?”

Allura covered her mouth with one hand and when Lance pulled himself out of the bow at the end of his spin he realized that she was stifling a smile. “Much better,” she said, and when Shiro cleared his throat she glanced to him. “We need to go.”

Shiro piloted the shuttle, of course — he had given Lance a once-over and there didn’t seem to be anything at all strange about his behavior, which was mildly disappointing. Lance sat behind Allura in the shuttle as she contacted the Segn’s control tower to get their course. Shiro was concentrating on navigating the space lanes and was far too busy to notice the way that Lance was staring at him. Lance’s nose had started to itch again and it was all he could do not to keep scratching it.

The Segn were a humanoid race that stood roughly the same height as Allura. They were hairless, with four solid-colored eyes and small nubby antenna across the crown of their heads in different formations. Fortunately, they spoke a dialect of the common language with a strange but not undecipherable lilt, and their planet’s atmosphere was breathable, if humid.

The Holy Castle was a large, open-air complex in which delicate diplomatic meetings took place. There were no palace attendants; everyday maintenance and upkeep was handled by computer systems and cleaning robots. Each councilor or diplomatic envoy had at most two attendants of their own who were instructed to stand back and away while the councilors conducted their official business. This didn’t seem to go over well with Shiro, who bristled slightly at the instruction, but Allura gave him a look and he took a large step back to where Lance had stopped.

He held himself stiff and unnatural and when Lance glanced over at him he wouldn’t look at Lance. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed that Lance was looking at him, his attention instead focused laser-sharp on the princess, watching her every movement. His ears had gone pink again, Lance noted, and he seemed to be breathing just a little harder than was necessary for them to be just standing there.

Oh.

It was the _princess._

The weight of that realization staggered him. Lance hadn’t realized how invested he had become in the idea that Shiro was somehow attracted to _him_ until the reality of the situation set in. He bit the inside of his lip hard and took a deep breath, keeping his attention on Allura and not allowing himself to think on it any farther. How could he have been so _stupid?_

They followed Allura after the greeting ceremony, only to both be stopped at the door to the entrance hall. Shiro _really_ didn’t like this, and Allura stepped back outside to speak with them quietly before the doors closed. “It’s fine, Shiro,” she said. “This is where the negotiations happen.”

“I don’t like you in there alone,” Shiro said stubbornly, his jaw set. “What if something happened?”

“I am quite certain I can take care of myself,” Allura said icily. “I shall see you both at dinner.” She swept into the negotiation room and the doors closed behind her. Shiro stood there for a good long while, rooted in place and staring at the door, his expression unreadable.

Lance’s nose was still bothering him. “Are you really going to stand there and wait for the negotiations to be over?” he asked, and rubbed his nose again.

“Not now, Lance,” Shiro said, and there was some quality to his voice that Lance didn’t quite recognize. He knew too well the dismissive tone, though, and it put his hackles up.

There were a million things he wanted to say; every single one lodged in his throat and after a moment Lance finally said, “yeah, whatever,” and pushed off the pillar he was leaning against.

Shiro didn’t even look at him as he walked away.

 

#

 

Lance passed several Segn attendants who were clustered along the hallway; most were talking in low tones and a few watched him walk by, but none stopped their conversations to engage. Lance was perfectly fine with that, as his usually chipper mood was dampened by Shiro’s.

_If it was Keith instead of me he wouldn’t be so dismissive._

Lance stopped at the end of the hallway. The open plan of the Holy Castle apparently didn’t have traditional fortifications … or even regular _walls._ At the end of the hallway there were no doors, just large, loose billowing curtains suspended from the ceiling and when Lance pushed through the sheer gauzy fabric he was outside the castle itself, standing in a fine pale sand. In the distance, he could see the glitter of sunlight on water, and birds calling as they circled high in the air above.

He turned his face up to the sun and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It didn’t _smell_ like the ocean, no tang of salt in the breeze, and he sighed, opening his eyes. Lance took a few steps in the sand and realized that the calling creatures weren’t birds when he stumbled over one closer to the water. It was some kind of winged, four-legged lizard-creature that screeched unhappily at being disturbed, hissed at him and took to the air with iridescent dragonfly-esque wings.

Maybe he _was_ getting sick and that was why his nose was bothering him so much. Out here in the sunlight it wasn’t itchy, and he definitely wasn’t congested. After tamping down the sand to make sure no weird alien fauna was gonna pop out and bite him in an unfortunate area, Lance sat down and sighed, staring out at the water.

There was no reason for him to be so upset. Lance let out a groan and buried his head in his arms, ears gone pink. So Shiro had a crush on Allura, so did Lance. Big deal. So Shiro liked to almost inappropriately touch Keith and be overly familiar toward him like they were boyfriends or something so what? Maybe they were just _really_ close friends. Or _maybe_ Lance was trying too hard to buy into his own delusions and was just going to end up majorly disappointed. Lance groaned again, louder now, and then lifted his head and squinted out at the water.

Had it only been a _week_ he’d been mooning over Shiro??

“Ugh,” Lance said, and rubbed his nose again. Then he scrunched his nose up and looked at his hand, because he’d rubbed his nose when he thought about Shiro, not because it was itchy again. _That_ was weird. Lance clambered to his feet and rubbed his hand through his hair, squinting out at the water again before turning to look back at the Holy Castle. He couldn’t let himself be _too_ distracted … they were here for a reason, after all.

 

#

 

In the time Lance had walked the interior of the Holy Castle Shiro hadn’t moved at all. He was still standing straight, arms folded and glaring at the two robot doormen who stood before the closed doors to the great hall. “Doesn’t seem like much in the way of fortifications,” Lance said casually, stopping on Shiro’s left.

Being the first person to address Shiro in likely two hours actually earned him a glance. “What?”

“Place is pretty under-defended for a seat of government,” Lance held out a translucent blue bottle in Shiro’s direction. “Thirsty? The water here is sweet.”

Shiro shook his head in the negative, but Lance didn’t drop his arm and after a moment Shiro did take the bottle, uncapping it and taking a sip. “That being said, you don’t have to stand here and get into a staring contest with a bunch of robot guards,” Lance continued. “The rest of the attendants are eating and hanging out around the meal hall; apparently the delegates get fed during the course of negotiations. There’s even bunks if it goes into overnight territory.”

“You go ahead,” Shiro said gruffly. “I’ll stay here.” He drained the bottle.

“Already did, thank you,” Lance waved one hand in front of his face, then folded his arms. “You know, you’re acting ridiculous, right?”

This earned another look and, to Lance’s surprise, a small flush. Shiro frowned and actually took a moment to process Lance, and then Lance’s words. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been yourself for days,” Lance said. “Allura is fine; and even if something _were_ to happen, are you just forgetting the fact that she can turn into a giant rage-monster and apparently throw you over her shoulder one-handed? I’m not. That’s impressive as shit.”

“How do you even know about that?” Shiro asked, his voice slightly pained.

“She let it slip at dinner once, think you skipped that one. Then Pidge pressured her into a reenactment because she didn’t believe Allura and she threw Hunk halfway across the training room.” Lance put his hands on his hips. “Were you seriously not there for this? Where were you?” Shiro shook his head, clearly bemused at the account, and Lance tapped his foot, brow furrowed. “She offered to throw me too but she tossed Hunk like a shot put and while she can throw me around all she wants I prefer a bed to be involved.” The skin around Shiro’s scar went pink, and Lance snapped his fingers. “You and Keith were doing that thing, you know, where you went to pick up that stuff.”

Shiro, who had somehow managed to follow most of Lance’s train of thought, said helplessly, “… the stuff?”

“Not the fuel cells but the other stuff. The, um,” Lance wiggled his fingers. “You remember, it turned everyone’s hand-prints neon yellow.”

“The peritrite?”

“Yes! That stuff.”

“So while Keith and I were getting restocking material for the ship, you had the Princess throw Hunk across the training bay.” Shiro shook his head but couldn’t help the smile that escaped.

“Yeah, so what I’m _saying_ ,” Lance said, “is that you should come eat and take a load off, because the Princess is fine and would be pissed if she got out of there to find out that _you_ have been standing here _literally_ all day.”

Shiro glanced at the doors again, and Lance saw the flicker of emotion as he considered Lance’s suggestion. He wasn’t going to accept it, Shiro was almost more stubborn than Keith so Lance decided to take matters into his own hands. He reached out and grabbed Shiro by the cuff of his jacket, his fingers brushing Shiro’s bared left wrist.

All the blood rushed from Lance’s face, and he went dizzy. He jerked his hand back so fast it felt like he’d been scalded and Shiro, too, yanked his arm away; staring wide-eyed at Lance like he’d been stung. “I, uh,” Lance said, and covered his mouth with one hand, still light-headed. “That was weird,” he managed, not really to Shiro but focused more on not falling on his face on the floor.

“Lance, are you okay?” Shiro asked after a moment, but his voice wasn’t quite right either, a little higher-pitched than usual, almost panicked. Lance looked at him and squinted, and yeah he was okay, just a little dizzy thanks, but _dang_ Shiro smelled weird. He rubbed his hand over his nose in a now well-practiced motion.

“Your eyes are dilated,” Lance said, sounding amused. He shook his head again, hard, and maybe that shook something back into place because he didn’t feel quite so lightheaded any longer. “That … that was weird for you too, right? I swear I haven’t been rubbing my feet on the floor just to give you an extra-large static shock or something.”

Shiro reached out his hand like he was going to set it on Lance’s shoulder, then stopped and withdrew it. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea to get something to eat,” he said finally. He looked at the transparent blue bottle he had been holding in his right hand, or rather what was left after he had crushed it nearly flat. “Uh,” he said, and offered the mangled bottle back to Lance. “I hope they weren’t wanting this back.”

Lance needed what felt like another ten walks to burn off the sudden excess of nervous energy in his system after he showed Shiro to the large dining hall. There were long tables laid out in rows with bench seating, and the clean stone walls and cut of the furniture made the room feel positively medieval; but the serving droids puttering around with trays of food and small console stations brought the whole thing into modern day. Lance made to escape once he’d delivered Shiro to the origin of the food but before he could Shiro’s hand — his right one, the prosthetic — shot out and closed firmly around Lance’s bicep.

“You weren’t planning on leaving me here,” Shiro said in a falsely sweet tone of voice. “Were you?”

“I already ate,” Lance tried, but there was no way he would be able to break the grip of the Galra-made prosthetic, so he relaxed into the grip and let Shiro steer them both through the crowd of attendants.

Shiro _smelled._ It was weird that he’d never noticed it before, because the odor was slightly strange but also kind of sweet. Lance’s first thought had redirected to the aromatic alien cuisine but no, this scent was very definitely coming from _Shiro,_ it got thicker and headier the closer he got. It was very, very distracting, especially when Shiro shoved him down onto the bench and sat heavily beside him.

This was even weirder, because suddenly Lance’s stomach was twisting into knots. He leaned away, turning to look at Shiro beside him. Shiro had plopped both his elbows on the table, hands threaded to form a seat for his chin. He wasn’t looking at Lance again, and his earls were _definitely_ red. “Shiro?” Lance said, because the tang was thick in the air and he could almost taste Shiro on his tongue.

Suddenly that was all that Lance wanted. To taste Shiro; to bite his neck to hold him still while he ran his hands down Shiro’s sides, to run his tongue over the head of his holy _shit_ he was not having those thoughts right now, right here, in the dining hall of an alien castle in pants that would give him away in a heartbeat _right next to the guy he was suddenly fantasizing about._ Lance spun on the bench and stood up, aiming for either one of the robot servers who had that sweet water, or to _get the hell out of here and find his self-control what the fuck what the FUCK._

Shiro moved just as fast, half-turning and grabbing Lance’s arm again. This time, it was with his left hand and when Lance felt the strange tingle it was not quite as violent a shock. “Where are you going?” Shiro asked while somehow avoiding looking directly at Lance.

Lance inhaled a long breath of Shiro’s sweet, strange scent and looked around. No one was really paying them much mind, the other attendants were busy in their own conversations, awash with their own drama. “Shiro,” Lance’s mouth was dry because he couldn’t believe he was about to ask him this deadass to his face, but here goes nothing. “Are … are you in heat?”

A long silence stretched even longer and then suddenly Shiro released Lance’s arm. He was still facing away from Lance, but Lance could tell that even from this angle his face was red. “I’m on suppressants,” he said finally. “You shouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Holy shit,” Lance’s ability to stay upright was immediately impacted and he thudded back into his seat on the hard stone bench. It was almost to much to process. “You _are_ an omega.”

 

#

 

Apparently it was not uncommon for diplomatic meetings and negotiations to go long in the Holy Castle and as such there were sleeping and privacy rooms available for the attendants waiting on their envoys. That was very much to their benefit because Lance did _not_ want to have this conversation in the open, the disinterest of the Segn be damned, and really there were a lot less things in the small sleeping room for Shiro to look at instead of Lance.

Which, Shiro was currently doing a _fantastic_ job of not looking directly at Lance, standing there with his arms folded and staring studiously at the plain wall as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Lance didn’t bother remaining on his feet, sitting on the edge of the overly plush mattress. He sank down into it, a bit surprised until he settled his feet on the floor. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I have,” Shiro said, and Lance felt that twisting stab in his gut that reminded him he hadn’t earned Shiro’s trust. “Pidge knows.”

Lance blinked, because that wasn’t the name he was expecting. “ _Pidge_ knows?”

“Yes.” Shiro’s mouth twisted in amusement. “I would hope so, given she makes our suppressants from scratch, although why she needed a vial of _my_ blood for that I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

“There’s going to be an army of miniature Shiro clones when we return to the ship,” Lance muttered. “Dude, don’t give her your _blood_ , she’ll do mad scientist shit on it.” Shiro shrugged and Lance leaned forward. “Have you gone into heat before on the ship? We’ve been out here a while now…”

“It’s not the first time, no,” Shiro said, and Lance thought back on the weeks and months they had been together, trying to find some scrap of similarity to the past week. He couldn’t. There didn’t seem to be anything strange about Shiro’s behavior that he’d noticed, because he certainly hadn’t been doing the whole ‘blushing demurely’ thing the _last_ time.

Or maybe he had, and it had been at Keith and he just hadn’t noticed.

No, that wasn’t likely. He noticed every time Shiro put his hands on Keith in public, he would have _definitely_ picked up the blushing and the hesitation.

“So what’s so different about this time, then?” Lance said finally. “Why am I just _now_ figuring out that you’re on your heat? Why are you so, so…” he gestured at Shiro helplessly, and then folded his arms. “You wouldn’t even make eye contact with me for three straight days, what the _hell_ , man.”

Shiro was staring at him, but this time it was with an absolutely perplexed expression. “You … don’t know?”

Lance rolled his head around his shoulders, and then held up one finger without unfolding his arms. “Nope,” he said cheerfully. “I know I’m not your type because you practically drape yourself over Keith, and I’ve seen the way you look at Allura.” He shrugged his shoulders with his arms still folded.

Shiro took a long, deep breath through his nose and held it, before releasing and opening his eyes. They were still slightly dilated, Lance could tell that even from his seated position and why _that_ sent a thrum through he he wasn’t certain. Shiro’s scent had increased in the small room, cloying and overpowering, and Lance shivered a little, felt inexplicably turned on, felt _hungry_ , felt….

“When did you present?” Shiro asked, finally.

Lance stared at him caught a little in the throes of his hormones that he didn’t quite understand the question. He wet his lips and squinted at Shiro. “I haven’t,” he said, confused. “I’m a beta, beta’s don’t present. Why would you _ask-_ ”

Shiro took a step forward and loomed over Lance seated on the bed. Lance immediately felt small but he refused to shrink away from Shiro, choosing instead to jut his chin out defiantly. “Don’t play coy,” Shiro hissed, and his voice set all the hairs at the base of Lance’s neck on end. “I know you have. I’ve been smelling you for a _week_ , Lance.”

Lance was feeling dizzy again, light-headed. Shiro was breathing hard, his arms still folded and staring down at Lance intently, and Lance … Lance didn’t know what he wanted to happen next. His head was swimming, Shiro’s scent was _amazing_ and Shiro had been smelling _him?_ “All that time you wouldn’t look at me,” Lance said, wetting his lips again before he put both hands on the edge of the bed, pushing off, rising to his feet.

Shiro didn’t move, and that left them both uncomfortably close. Instead of Lance’s senses being overwhelmed by Shiro, suddenly this close it felt like the air had cleared, that he could _breathe_ again. The calm settled on him as Shiro’s breath picked up and he clearly struggled to keep it under control. “Shiro,” Lance said softly, reaching out to touch his face.

He didn’t turn or shrink away, but held himself perfectly still as Lance brushed his hand over Shiro’s cheek, sliding it back and cupping his jaw. He didn’t tingle, this time; although Shiro’s cheek was rough with unseen stubble, coarse and unfamiliar. There was something in Shiro’s eyes that he recognized, a split second spark of _calm_ before Shiro’s eyes slid closed and he relaxed, turning his face into Lance’s hand.

Lance gulped air, felt something pull tight in his abdomen and tried very unsuccessfully to remind himself that they were in some tiny, undoubtedly recorded room in an unfamiliar castle on an unfamiliar planet, and that this was a _Very Bad Idea._ With all that considered, his other hand went to Shiro’s face as well, cupping along his jaw and pulling his head forward just enough so that their noses could brush. Shiro’s arms dropped from his chest and went around Lance’s back and oh, he was so _warm._ Lance hummed a little and Shiro’s arms tightened just so, his eyes opening slightly, showing glimmers of his pupils underneath his thick lashes.

Lance kissed him.

Shiro went pliant under his mouth. His hands trapped Lance’s cape against his back, fingers curling into the soft material as Lance kissed him aggressively. Lance couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about this, not after the last week, not after the way he had watched Shiro avoid him, not after so many nights alone with his hand and his thoughts. Shiro made a small, surprised noise against Lance’s mouth when Lance turned them both, but that surprise turned into a small moan when his legs hit the bed that Lance had been seated on. “Lance,” Shiro _groaned_ his name and the thickness of his voice sent electricity down Lance’s spine. When he pulled away, Shiro’s head followed, his teeth catching at Lance’s lip for a split second.

Lance put both of his hands on Shiro’s chest and pushed, lightly. Shiro’s legs were already back against the bed, he had nowhere else to go but sit down on the overly plush mattress and sink down into it. Shiro did just that, Lance standing between his spread legs, and then Shiro just fell back over, letting his arms fall above his head, chest heaving as he stared up at Lance through heavy-lidded eyes. Lance wet his lips and _stared_ at Shiro, laid out for him. He was fully clothed but his posing was just obscene, he’d arched his back slightly and as Lance watched he brought one leg up, heel resting on the edge of the mattress. The _want_ wrapped around Lance’s chest, his lungs, his _heart_ as he stared down at Shiro, chest heaving, his panting matching Shiro’s own.

“I’m,” Lance said and wet his too-dry lips, unable to push the words out.

“Lance,” Shiro said again, his voice heavy with his need. “I want you to-”

“ _No_ ,” Lance said, his voice strangled, escaping somehow from the last part of his sanity that he could hold on to. “No, Shiro, _no-_ ” He was breathing so fast he was dizzy, how could he even wrap his mind around saying no to this? He was hard, he _hurt_ he was so hard, his mental movie was far enough ahead that he already had Shiro out of his clothes and his hands on Shiro’s scarred skin and Lance threw the emergency handbrake on everything in a desperate attempt to remind himself where he was.

Shiro shifted, brought one hand down and pushed himself up on that arm. There was something else in his eyes now, something beyond the pure unbridled lust of an omega in heat; something more akin to the Shiro Lance knew as the leader of Voltron. “Lance, I’m sorry, I thought you would want to … _god,_ I’ve crossed a line…” He was pushing himself up farther now, sitting upright and Lance wanted to shove him back down and kiss him senseless and suddenly he couldn’t trust himself to even be close enough to touch Shiro.

He didn’t move.

“No,” he said again, softer this time.

Shiro sat fully upright, reached for him. His face was still flushed red, sweat shone on it; he was so turned on that Lance could smell it clear and crisp, the musk of him thick in the air. He should have stepped back, out of reach, but he didn’t. He let Shiro touch him again.

“Lance,” Shiro said. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t been thinking straight lately. I can’t put you in this position, it isn’t responsible of me.” Shiro was saying this and yet he was _still touching Lance._ Lance felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

Lance spoke calmly, like he was talking about the weather. “Shiro, if you don’t let me go I’m going to fuck you into the mattress right now.”

Watching Shiro grapple with how badly he wanted that to happen was an experience. Fortunately common sense won in the end, even if it was a fight. Shiro very reluctantly let his hand fall away.

The air in the room seemed to burn his throat as Lance took a very deep breath, and then another. The scent had yet to fade. “Don’t be sorry,” Lance said raggedly.

“It’s inappropriate of me,” Shiro said. He rested his arms on his knees, and took a deep breath, staring at the floor between his feet. “It is _deeply_ inappropriate, Lance, I can’t do this to you.” Shiro looked up at him and Lance almost shuddered. “You didn’t know you were an alpha? You hadn’t presented?”

Lance folded his arms and felt himself grow more defensive by the moment. “That shouldn’t matter,” he said.

“It does matter,” Shiro said. “It does, I can’t-” he swallowed and looked away and the flush that colored his face felt more of embarrassment and shame, than anything else. “I can’t do this to you,” Shiro said finally. “I’ll have Pidge work on my suppressants, we’ll figure something out so you don’t have to smell my heats either…” Lance’s mouth went dry.

“But I want to help,” Lance said, imagining sinking into the wet, tight heat that was Shiro’s hole, felt almost dizzy from how much he wanted it. _I want to fuck you so bad, Shiro._

“No,” Shiro ran his hands down his face, had his ‘I’m in charge’ voice on again, shaky though it was. “You’ve only just realized what you are, I can’t soil that. I’m sorry, Lance.”

It was such a small distance and it felt like a gulf. Lance crossed it in a stride, his hand on Shiro’s shoulder and the other cupping his jaw. Shiro didn’t have time to react, fight or flight actually turned into freeze as Lance twisted his head up and kissed him aggressively. Shiro nearly melted under him, his eyes closing completely.

“I want to help,” Lance said again, and it was Shiro who had to swallow to find his voice again. “Let me help you, Shiro, I can.”

“I can’t be your first,” Shiro said raggedly.

“Who says that you’re my first?” Lance said, the anger now burning in his words.

“Your first as an alpha,” Shiro’s voice was soft. “Don’t let me ruin you.”

Lance curled his fingers into Shiro’s jaw and didn’t release him. “I’m already ruined,” Lance said, his blood running hot in his veins. “Don’t you dare try and take credit for that.”

The heavy atmosphere of the room settled on them, as oppressive as the stink of Shiro’s heat. Lance had opened his mouth, was prepared to continue that thought when the buzz of their communicators going off split the air; Allura’s voice between them. “ _Shiro, Lance? Where are you? We’ve broken for a brief recess.”_

Lance let his hand slide off Shiro’s jaw, and Shiro’s gaze flickered away almost immediately as he withdrew the small communicator from the interior pocket of his formal jacket. “We’re together, Princess,” he said once he thumbed the microphone on. “We’ll come to you.”

 

#

 

It was as if nothing at all had passed between them. Lance wasn’t certain if he should be impressed or angry at the way Shiro’s demeanor shifted and settled right back into the same pattern it had been holding in for the past week. Allura was waiting outside the Great Hall and standing with several aliens; only one of them recognizable as a Segn. “Sorry, Princess,” Shiro said as they arrived, but before he could continue Lance cut ahead.

“Sorry Allura it was my fault,” he said. “I got hungry and wanted a nap.”

Shiro glared at him, however Allura didn’t seem to notice. She frowned at Lance but didn’t reprimand him in front of the other presumed dignitaries. One yellowish alien who stood as tall as Allura’s elbow stepped forward and peered up at Lance, squinting its three large eyes at him. Then it turned to Allura and pointed at him. “I want that one,” it said, speaking in the common tongue with a thick accent. “Good frame, chkchk. Light and agile. Good genetic material.”

“Thanks… I think,” Lance said as Allura smiled a pained, exasperated expression. “What does it want me for?”

“Targ not an it,” the alien said indignantly. “Targ a Toff.”

Lance looked helplessly at Allura, who had her hands folded before her. “I’m afraid I cannot give him to you,” she said to the Toff. “As he is a Paladin of Voltron, that makes him rather integral to our unit.” The small three-eyed alien turned back to Allura and chittered rapidly and angrily in its native tongue. “Alteans do not trade people for _things_ ,” Allura said, her voice dropping in anger at the alien’s insinuation.

Shiro moved forward then and placed himself in front of Lance, arms folded and scowling down at the small alien. The Toff made a face, its middle eye closing and it scooted back while bowing. “Apologies, princess,” it said rapidly. “I was not aware it had an aurapair.”

The Segn dignitary cleared its throat. “The talks will continue shortly,” it said, and nodded its head. “We will speak with you again.”

Lance leaned around Shiro, watching with narrowed eyes as the small alien called a Toff skittered away, walking between the Segn and a larger, maroon-colored creature that had remained silent throughout the exchange. “What is going on, and why does that thing think you’re my nanny?”

“That’s an _au pair_ ,” Shiro murmured, as Allura stepped closer to him, an expression on her face as if she had just taken a bite of something sour. “Why _was_ that Toff so intent on Lance? I know they’re all about collecting, but that was a little strange, even for a Toff.”

Allura glanced back over her shoulder for a moment, ensuring that the alien was a safe distance away. Then she turned and _glared_ at Shiro. “What have you done to him?”

“Hey,” Lance said, affronted. “Why are you assuming Shiro did something to _me?_ ” Allura didn’t even look at him, which riled up Lance all the more. “Allura!”

Shiro, to his credit, did very little other than flush. “What’s an aurapair, Princess?”

“It’s difficult to explain, there’s not really an Altean equivalent,” Allura said, and finally looked at Lance thoughtfully. He was stewing angrily, his arms folded. “It’s not quite as intimate as a soulbond, but still more than fornication.”

Lance turned pink himself at fornication, and he blurted out “we haven’t fucked, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Shiro sighed loudly as Allura looked blankly at Lance. “Keith and Pidge use that word with some frequency,” she said. “Yet no one will bother to explain its origin. It is an act, yes?”

“It’s an Earth term for, uh, quiznak,” Shiro said. “The fornication meaning.” This time Allura turned pink. She, however, took the phrase quite literally as her entire face turned a lovely shade of pale rose.

“Oh,” she said, her voice somehow maintaining decorum. “I see.”

“How did it go?” Shiro asked, attempting and mostly succeeding at redirecting the flow of the conversation. “That Segn said the talks were going to resume?”

“Oh, I’ve pretty much secured them as allies for the coalition,” Allura said airily. “Although the Toff and Niru are being a little testy. The thing is, once you enter into a session with the Segn you are required to attend until all matters of state are resolved for the session. They’re still discussing trade routes with the other delegations, and a treaty with the Agis.” She fanned her hand before her face. “Hopefully that won’t take too much longer, it seems as if they were close to a resolution.”

“Good,” Shiro said. “Have you radioed the others with the update?” When Allura shook her head negatively, Shiro took his communicator from his pocket and thumbed it on, stepping away to hail the ship and update them as to what was going on. Lance watched Shiro go, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Even now _knowing_ what he knew it didn’t stop him from being overwhelmed. Shiro knew he was an alpha. Shiro wanted _him_ , if only for that.

“Lance?” Allura asked. “Are you feeling all right?”

He glanced back over at her, his arms still folded. “Why did you assume Shiro did something to me?” he asked again, still slightly affronted at the insinuation that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if accosted.

Allura was silent, staring at him. “The Black Paladin is the leader of Voltron,” she said finally. “He holds some power and influence over you all. While I feel that the Lions choose wisely, it is not out of the realm of possibility that something darker lies beneath. I don’t want to see any more Paladins die.” She looked away, toward Shiro, which was a good thing because Lance felt dizzy at those words.

“Allura,” Lance said, and he wasn’t sure _what_ it was he felt at her words, except chilled to the very bone. “He’s not — Shiro wouldn’t hurt _any_ of us…”

Allura didn’t answer him again.

 

#

 

Shiro avoided Lance for the remainder of the time that they were in the Holy Castle, which was _terrifically_ frustrating because Lance really wanted to talk things over with him while there weren’t other Paladins around to be nosy and eavesdrop. Every time Lance zeroed in on Shiro’s location Shiro found something else to do. He would pace the walls of the castle, walk down to the glittering water of the sea, talk with the other diplomatic envoys … but he didn’t look at Lance. At all. Lance _knew_ Shiro knew that he was there, he could smell the way Shiro’s scent would change, fluctuating with his desire, but just as he could smell Shiro that also mean that Shiro smelled him coming. From a mile away, apparently.

Frustrated beyond belief, Lance ended up locking himself in one of the small water closets to take care of his business, his erection hot in his hand. He’d been trying to will it down for hours now, to no avail. He rubbed his thumb up and down the hot velvety skin of his dick and peered down at it, scrutinizing it as best he could. It didn’t _look_ any different, or feel any different … maybe Shiro was wrong about him. It didn’t feel right, for him to be an alpha.

Lance tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, stroking his dick as he thought about Shiro, as he thought about how his mouth would look wrapped around Lance’s dick, as he thought about how _delectable_ he was arranged out on that bed and practically begging to be fucked.

He covered the head of his cock with one hand when he came, trying to prevent the overspill from hitting the wall in the small toilet’s stall. That didn’t do much good, though, because he came a _lot_ ; especially for someone who jerked off regularly. Lance pushed his cock down between his legs, shuddering as the final few spurts hit the inside of the bowl, his hand covered in his own seed dripping down his fingers, thick and sticky. Lance let out a small groan and stroked himself again, and then froze as his hand encountered the hard growth at the base of his cock.

It was so sensitive that he kept trembling when he wrapped his hand around it. It was still small, comparatively, but Lance knew instinctively that it could get bigger than this, locking him in deep, buried to the hilt in a quivering omega begging for his seed. It was an intoxicating thought, a sensation he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around, so Lance squeezed his knot gently and his hips jerked involuntarily, more dribbles of milky white fluid emerging from the leaking tip of his cock. Oh _hell._

He couldn’t wait to see Hunk’s reaction to _this_.

 

#

 

The remainder of the trip was quiet. Lance talked a lot with the Segn and learned a little about their culture while deftly avoiding the Toff delegation. When he ran across Shiro again in the dining hall his scent was not as potent; although it took Shiro a moment to gather himself enough to look Lance in the face. He did it without blushing though, so his heat must nearly be over. Lance felt a pang of regret and wasn’t sure how much of it he kept off his face. Shiro didn’t say anything.

Allura didn’t make mention of the way they were acting; although she gave Lance a strange look as they boarded the shuttle. The talks were a success, and apparently Allura helped settle a dispute between the Segn and another race that called the same planet home known as the Agis. Of course, this settlement included the Princess and the Paladins flying halfway around the planet to help negotiate the remainder of the treaty, and Lance sighed deeply because that meant at minimum one more day in close proximity to Shiro when Shiro was doing his level best to pretend that Lance as a whole didn’t exist, at least on a personal level.

_He never should have come on this mission._

“The Agis don’t quite have the same animosity toward the Galra as the Segn do,” Allura said, her hand on one of the holographic displays in the cockpit. “So I’m having Keith and Pidge meet us there.” She looked back at Lance as she said that, as if waiting for some kind of objection from him, but Lance sat behind Shiro’s seat in the shuttle and simply didn’t respond. This prompted a deeper, more puzzled look from Allura, and Lance sighed loudly and sat forward, arms still folded.

“Oh no,” he said in exaggerated monotone. “Not _Keith._ ”

“Lance,” Shiro said mildly.

“What’s wrong, Lance?” Allura asked, and Lance sat back in his seat, the restraint webbing digging into his shoulders. “You’ve been acting strange since we left the Holy Castle.”

“Maybe you should ask Shiro,” Lance said, without meeting Allura’s gaze.

Allura’s frown turned stormy. “If something has happened between the two of you,” she said, “it is best to resolve it before it becomes an issue in forming Voltron.”

“It won’t be an issue, Princess,” Shiro said, all business. He kept his eyes out the forward viewport as he piloted the shuttle.

“Shiro’s right,” Lance said. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish the track record of the universe’s greatest weapon, or something.” Allura was still giving Lance a measuring look when the communicator lit up, and a small, three-dimensional flickering image of Pidge’s head appeared on the holographic display.

“We made it to the Agis’ capital city,” Pidge said. “Uh, you guys might want to hurry. I think the Segn dumped us in it.”

Allura shook her head. “Dumped us in it? I don’t understand, Pidge.”

“Just hurry. You’ll understand when you get here.”

 

#

 

The dispute between the Segn and their neighbors the Agis was long-standing, so much so that neither race could clearly say from where it originated. Peace treaties had been attempted on several occasions but were often rebuffed, so this particular arrangement, being delivered and officiated by a neutral third party, should be the resolution to a centuries-old conflict.

The Agis were built in a similar manner to the Segn, if much squatter in stature. They had a soft, reddish-brown fur that covered their bodies and frilled manes that encircled their heads and disappeared down their backs. The tallest among them was barely taller than Pidge, and they were milling around both Pidge and Keith when Shiro and Lance followed Allura out of the landed shuttle.

The Agis made obeisance to Allura, which seemed to surprise her a bit. “Princess,” the first one said, and there was a trill to its voice that reminded Lance of tropical birds, carrying syllables longer than needed. “Thank you for your prompt arrival.”

“You are very welcome,” Allura said graciously, glancing out over the half-built bridge on which they stood. It ended in the air, headed for a glowing, translucent green wall in the distance, but in the opposite direction stood the polar opposite of the Segn’s Holy Castle. Not unlike the Holy Castle this stronghold butted up against a cerulean sea; but it was much more lively. There were Agis workers all over the place, milling in small groups and very clearly trying to _look_ busy while indirectly staring at the foreigners. “I understand that there’s been some disagreement over the terms of the treaty and the disbursement of land titles.”

“Indeed there has,” the Agis said. “But it is late and you and your retinue have journeyed far. Please, retire to the castle for the evening; we shall work out the writ of negotiation in the morning.”

This castle had no such proper designation as the Holy Castle, and it was much warmer and more lived-in as a space. Allura was graciously granted a rather large room to rest in, with a four-poster bed off to the side and a long table splitting the room down the middle. The rest of her retinue had three small antechamber rooms from which to pick accommodations; Pidge immediately locked herself in the center room, leaving Lance, Shiro and Keith to all look at each other. Or, more accurately, for Shiro to exchange a meaningful look with Keith which set every fiber of Lance’s patience aflame. Before either of them could open their mouths, Lance grabbed Keith by the back of his Paladin armor. “Keith and I will share,” he announced to Allura, as Shiro blinked and actually for a split second, met Lance’s eye.

“It’s wonderful to see you getting along,” Allura said, distracted as she stood at a console in the room and typed.

Lance shoved Keith into the room ahead of him, and Keith was still startled enough by Lance’s forwardness that he didn’t put up much of a fuss, or at least until the door swished closed behind them.

The antechamber wasn’t much bigger than the resting rooms at the Holy Castle, and it had one single plush bed set into the wall under a large window. Keith stared at it for a heartbeat, then registered Lance and a scowl crossed his face. “I am _not_ sleeping in the same bed as _you_ ,” he said.

“Fine,” Lance said sharply. “You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” He stood with his back to the exit, and was absolutely _not_ going to let Keith past without damn good reason. If there was only one bed in this one, there was only one bed in Shiro’s, and the thought of Keith sleeping in the same bed as Shiro was causing a visceral reaction in Lance’s gut not unlike eating bad goo.

Keith stared at him, arms folded. Both he and Pidge had arrived in their respective Lions, fully kitted out in their Paladin armor. It made him slightly taller, _and_ bulkier, but Lance wasn’t about to back down from him. “What the hell is your problem?” Keith said finally, and Lance crossed his own arms, jutting his chin out and glaring, meeting Keith’s expression head-on.

_Keith didn’t know that Shiro was an omega._

The thought thudded in Lance’s ribs, first and foremost. Only Pidge knew. And him, now … if Keith went and made his spot in Shiro’s bed, then what? Maybe he already had and Lance had no idea, it wasn’t his place to get between them. Shiro had made it plenty clear that he wanted an alpha with _experience_ and that Lance wasn’t welcome there. “ _You’re_ my problem,” Lance said, because if Shiro wasn’t going to tell anyone that he was an omega, then Lance wasn’t going to tell anyone that _he_ presented, no matter how much he wanted to. It was between him, and Shiro.

“Yeah,” Keith said, and rolled his eyes. “You’ve been acting ridiculous for days, Lance. Did you finally get a heat or something, is that why you’re sniffing around Shiro so much?”

“I’m not the one who acts like a bitch in heat around him,” Lance snapped, voice gone low.

Keith _flushed._ He took a step forward, his eyes alight, and looked like he was about to take a swing at Lance when the unlocked door swished open behind them. “Aw,” Pidge said. “They haven’t come to blows quite yet. Want to give them a few minutes?”

Keith shoved right past Lance and back out into Allura’s chamber, where Shiro had taken a seat at the long table by the console. Lance felt his hackles rise for a moment, watching as Keith made his way over to Shiro and touch his shoulder. Shiro looked up at Keith and smiled easy, touched Keith’s hand that was resting on his shoulder, and watched as Keith walked past to sit down beside him. Lance felt like he was going to _choke._

He also didn’t realize that Pidge was right there next to him still. Her eyebrow had slowly drifted upwards. “We’re gonna need a sec, Allura,” Pidge said. “Don’t start without us.”

“Hm?” Allura said, but by the time she glanced over Pidge had already closed the door to the antechamber.

The door closing between the rooms didn’t slow the rapid beat of Lance’s heart. He glared at Pidge, who took a step into the room and then clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward and into Lance’s space while looking up at him intently. “What, _what?”_ Lance said, unnerved and unable to move that far back from her scrutinizing gaze.

“Are you in a _rut_?” she asked, surprised.

“What? No!” Lance said, a little too loudly.

“Because you’re acting _really_ strange, Lance,” Pidge said, and didn’t move. “Especially toward Shiro. And everyone knows it.”

“Well, everyone can mind their own damn business,” Lance said, tucking his chin to his chest and glaring right back at Pidge. She cocked her head and stared at him for a moment longer, and then turned about, flouncing to the bed and seating herself on the edge of it, folding her legs up under her. “That’s my bed,” Lance said, a weird twinge in his chest; he could overlay Shiro from earlier right there and that thought should not be making him break out into _any_ kind of sweat at the moment. “Wait, I said Keith could have the bed, never mind. Track as much mud as you want.”

“You _are_ in a rut,” Pidge said, both of her hands on her knees. She grinned at Lance. “I didn’t know you were an alpha, that…” she cocked her head, processing the information. “That makes _no_ sense. Why are you letting Shiro’s heat affect you now, you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make a move on him prior to this.” The grin had fallen off her face. “Why did you wait until he caused you to go into a rut?”

Now it was Lance’s turn to flush, and he looked away from Pidge. He wasn’t in a _rut._ “I didn’t know,” he said finally, when she didn’t say anything else. She remained silent, and finally Lance looked back at Pidge, getting angry at the scrutiny. “Why haven’t _you_ , if you’re an alpha?”

“This isn’t about me,” Pidge said. She folded her arms and studied Lance and then the realization struck her completely off-guard. “Did you _just_ present?” she asked, and when Lance flushed harder she sucked a breath in through her teeth. “Holy _shit_ , Lance, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t _know_ , okay?” Lance’s voice went higher than he wanted it to, and he bit his lip and looked away, furious.

“You need to go back to the ship.” Pidge stood. “Right now. I’ll take you, we can bring Hunk back as the fifth if we need to, I know the Agis are weird about their numbers.”

“ _No_ ,” Lance hissed, because the thought of dealing with all this pent-up inside alone on the Castleship was almost too much to bear. He was still bigger than Pidge, so he stepped in front of the door, blocking her exit.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Pidge said. “You’re in a rut, Lance; your judgment is questionable enough without the added mix of Shiro’s heat muddying the waters.”

“It’ll be fine,” Lance said. “It’ll be — look, we’ve already talked, okay? I can handle this.” He took a deep breath and glared at Pidge, felt a strange surge in his chest as he did so. _Competition._ “Shiro doesn’t want me near him anyway. He likes Keith.”

“No he doesn’t,” Pidge said.

That caught Lance off guard. “Excuse me, _what?_ ” He didn’t have enough processing power to comprehend that, and Pidge sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose with a finger.

“I’ll explain while I take you back. Come up with some reason why you need to swap out with Hunk if you don’t want everyone to know the real reason.” She started to move to go around Lance but Lance held out his arm, blocking her.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’ve got this under control.”

“You are in a _rut_ ,” Pidge said for the third time. “You do _not_ have this under control, you don’t even know what you’re in for.” Her gaze softened a bit. “I’ve been there Lance, I know. I’m not devaluing you, I promise.”

“It’s one day,” Lance said. “It’s more effort to go back and forth to the Castleship, and do you even _want_ to try to explain this to the Agis?” He took a deep breath and held it, and then let it out through his teeth. The room had been getting warmer the longer that they remained in the closed-off antechamber; Lance hadn’t opened the window over the bed but doing that in front of Pidge now seemed like a weird concession. He wasn’t in a _rut_ , he wasn’t humping Shiro’s leg, was he? “I can control myself,” he said softly. “Shiro doesn’t want me, anyway.”

“The moment,” Pidge said finally, “the first _second_ it seems like something is going to happen I will haul you by your scruff back to the ship and shove you in a cryopod.” Her gaze was unblinking. “Shiro’s like family to me, do you understand?”

“We have a job to do, Pidge,” Lance said.

“Yeah,” Pidge said. “We do.”

 

#

 

“The Agis think that the Segn are surrendering to them,” Allura said. She was seated now, sprawled in a distinctly unladylike fashion in one of the big chairs around the table, her elbow propped on an armrest and her head in her hand. Her eyes were closed. “They think that the Segn are ceding their claim to the land and surrendering, and what we actually have are articles drafted by the Segn for the _Agis_ to surrender.” She groaned loudly and still did not open her eyes. “You are absolutely correct, Pidge, the Segn did dump us in it.”

“And here I am without a shovel,” Pidge muttered.

“This does seem largely political,” Shiro said. “What exactly _is_ our purpose here?”

“To get the Agis to sign the surrender accord I’m sure,” Lance said, standing with his back to the wall, behind Allura. It was as far as possible as he could get from Shiro while remaining in the room and even so the scent of Shiro’s heat was almost overpowering him. How did it get so _thick_ in the air? Lance swallowed and made an attempt to keep focused; Shiro wouldn’t look directly at him and that was perfectly fine by Lance for the moment. “So let me ask, has anyone actually _read_ the accords? In detail? Maybe it’s not as bad as we think it is, and it’s all just a bunch of misinterpretation.”

“Pretty sure there’s ‘enslavement of their entire people’ in there somewhere,” Keith said, and Lance let out a groan.

“Is that ‘pretty sure’ as in ‘I saw those exact words’ or ‘pretty sure’ as in ‘I just want to pick a fight’ because those are two different things entirely _Keith._ ”

Keith glared at Lance, and Lance met the glare head on, chin jutted forward defiantly. Okay, maybe he _was_ in a rut because he wanted to fucking fight Keith right now, and it was so much _more_ than their usual snarky disagreements. Every time Keith spoke it was like Lance was being dragged over nails, and it didn’t help anything when Shiro kept giving Keith these soft looks right in front of everyone. He just wanted to slap that smug expression off Keith’s face right now. Preferably in front of Shiro.

Lance swallowed and took a deep breath. Okay, maybe Pidge had been right and staying here was a _bad_ idea.

“Hate to be the one to say, ‘Lance is right,’ but…” Pidge said, “Lance is right.”

“What?” Lance said.

“We need to thoroughly read the articles of surrender and see what it entails, because… I don’t know, maybe it really isn’t what we think. Maybe we’ll luck out and it’s perfectly harmless and then we can get the signatures and be on our way.”

“Somehow I doubt it’s perfectly harmless,” Keith said.

“I agree,” Shiro said. “Especially if they both have the notion that the other is surrendering. Maybe the best thing for us to do is simply withdraw from the situation, Princess.”

“I told the Segn that I would assist them,” Allura said. “In exchange for their financial support in building our coalition in the fight against the Galra Empire.” She sighed deeply. “I gave them my word.”

“Why don’t we just rewrite the terms?” Keith said. When everyone looked to him, he shrugged. “What’s stopping us from creating the verbiage of the peace treaty and having the Agis and Segn both sign it?”

“Under false pretenses, though,” Pidge mused.

“So?” Keith leaned forward. “The Segn gave it to us with the intent of the Agis to sign it under false pretenses.”

Ugh, Lance hated it when Keith was right and he hated it even worse when he spoke up and said, “Keith’s got the right idea. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“Yeah, okay,” Pidge said. “So which one of you geniuses is going to scribe out a new peace treaty from scratch?”

Lance and Keith looked at each other, and Allura sat forward, touching a button on the table. “Coran,” she addressed, and the center of the table came alive with a small three-dimensional Coran, or at least half of him. “Yes, Princess?” Coran said, and Lance couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just been loitering around the bridge waiting to be called on.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said, and grinned like a shark.

 

#

 

Lance knelt on the large bed, fiddling with the window until he could get it to slide open. The breeze that blew in from the water was fresh and clear and, just like the beaches at the Holy Castle, devoid of all saltwater scent. Lance sighed, resting his hands on the windowsill and looking out over the dark waters. The fresh air was helping him clear his mind; maybe he would go for a walk on the beach and scream himself hoarse at the waves and hope to god that Shiro’s heat would clear up soon and that he could just be _past_ this.

“I thought you said I could have the bed,” Keith said, and Lance looked over at the doorway. “So was that a lie, too?”

“Ha, and here I thought you were going to make good on your chance to sleep with Shiro.” It hit him suddenly that he hadn’t slept in nearly a full day, if only because he couldn’t be bothered to summon the rancor he wanted his words to have. It felt like tired was really the only emotion he had left, now.

“What is _with_ you?” Keith started unhooking his Paladin armor and Lance stared dumbly at him, realizing with a start that Keith was in fact planning to get undressed in front of him and he didn’t know quite what to do about it. “You’ve been acting so fucking weird for the past _week_ , and that’s saying something because it’s _you._ ”

“Shiro’s in heat,” Lance said dumbly, before he could remember that little, incidental fact was supposed to be a secret. Keith kept unsnapping bits of his Paladin armor, leaving the shed pieces on the only other piece of furniture in the room, a low table that was pushed into the wall that shared the door.

“Yeah, and?” Keith said. “That’s something that happens every other month or so, it’s not the end of the world.” Lance stared at Keith with his mouth slightly open, as Keith hauled the bulk of his armor off over his head and set it on the table. Then Keith straightened and looked directly at Lance, confusion swiftly transitioning to anger on his face. “How do _you_ know Shiro’s in heat?”

“Because he told me,” Lance responded.

“There’s no reason for Shiro to tell you that,” Keith said. “Did you overhear it? It’s _none_ of your business is what it is, I don’t want to hear you spreading that.” Keith took a step closer, his face a stormcloud of emotion, and Lance laughed a little from the absurdity of it all.

 _He did tell me,_ Lance wanted to say, _he told me while he was begging for my cock, Keith, how do you like THAT?_ Instead he leaned back on his elbows, still propped on the sill of the open window and gave Keith a long, scrolling look. “Think you can take me, mullet man?” he scoffed. “Why does it matter where I heard it? I know it and even if I didn’t already know it was true your reaction would confirm it.”

Keith hissed out an angry noise and pushed his hand back through his hair, glaring at Lance. “Shiro being an omega doesn’t mean he’s not fit to lead us,” he said finally.

Lance blinked once and said before he could stop himself, “is _that_ what you’re worried about?”

“Of course it is,” Keith said. “You know how omega are treated back home.”

Lance opened his mouth and then shut it, because he _did_ know and he had never really thought about it. He had a few cousins who were omegas but no one close in his family, as big as it was; and people who had presented at the Garrison tended to stick close to others of the same classification. “I don’t care that he is one,” Lance said finally.

“Then why are you so hung up on the fact that he’s in heat?” Keith’s tone moved back to accusatory.

“Because I want to _fuck_ him,” Lance almost yelled at Keith, and Keith’s expression froze in place. If Lance wasn’t a heaving bundle of emotions he would find that expression funny, because it was like Keith just didn’t know how to handle what Lance just said. “Because I,” Lance said it again, slightly slower, and he laughed a little wildly. “I want to fuck him, Keith.”

Keith crossed the room faster than Lance expected. He had been ready for a fight all day but now when Keith rushed him it caught him off guard. Keith got one hand around Lance’s neck and Lance yelped, twisted and wasn’t able to free himself before Keith slammed him down into the bed, pinning him by his throat. Lance flailed, trying to catch Keith’s face with his hand but wasn’t able to, Keith caught his wrist with his free hand and _stared_ down at Lance. “Keith what the _fuck_ ,” Lance gargled, Keith’s hand so tight on his throat. “What the _fu-_ ”

Keith lowered his head and Lance twisted his face away but Keith wasn’t trying to kiss him. He was _smelling_ him. Lance shifted and, with Keith distracted, was able to catch Keith’s face with his other hand, pushing him away. Lance snarled but Keith only had two hands and they were both occupied. Suddenly, before Lance could attempt to gouge an eye, Keith yanked his head back and sat up on his knees, still straddling Lance. “You’re an _alpha_ ,” he said, scandalized.

“Yes, thank you for that news bulletin,” Lance said, and surged upward shoving Keith off him bodily and sitting up. He rubbed his throat with one hand as Keith rolled into a sitting position on the bed, legs folded underneath and staring at Lance. “I’ve only been dealing with that for the past twenty-four hours or so, thank you very much.”

“You didn’t _know?_ ”

“I literally _just_ presented,” Lance said. “Why’d you have to choke me out, I should fucking punch you in the goddamn face…”

“What are you, twelve? Did you not go through puberty until you were seventeen or something?”

“ _Sorry_ that my hormones are just on a fucking different schedule than yours, _Keith._ ”

“That’s why Shiro hasn’t been able to shut up about you for a week,” Keith said, more to himself than actually to Lance. “Holy _shit._ ” He sat back farther on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, and then shook his head before letting out a small, incredulous laugh. “A fucking _alpha._ ”

“Shiro’s been talking about me?” Lance said, because this was news to him. “Wait, wait, wait a second,” he held out one hand. “Are you not an alpha too?”

Keith sat back, and then crossed his legs under him and studied Lance. Then he shook his head. “I’m an omega, like Shiro,” he said. “Guess I better put that out there before you get wind of my heat, when it hits.”

Lance’s mouth was open again. “But-” this didn’t process. _“What?”_

“I’m not interested in Shiro like that anyway,” Keith said, face flushed. “Even if I was, we’re both omegas so it really doesn’t matter, does it?” He pointed at Lance. “I don’t want you thinking I’m even _slightly_ interested in you, though. I hate your smug fucking face.”

Lance rubbed both his hands over his face. “Don’t be sympathetic,” he said. “That just feels weird coming from you, okay?”

“So what, are you in a rut? That’s why you’re trying to act all macho man?” Keith said. “For as macho as you can get, which is kinda noodle-y, actually—”

“Keith I will fucking stab you with your own knife.”

“I would love to see you try.” Keith actually bared his teeth, and they seemed slightly sharper than normal. “It gives me an excuse.”

Lance sighed and got up, meaning to get off the bed entirely. He was tired but really didn’t want to be in the room with Keith any longer, this was weird enough as it was. “Has Allura turned in? If she hasn’t, I’m going to leave. I need to take a walk to clear my head.”

Keith remained seated on the bed, clearly struggling with what he was about to say. Finally he sighed. “Go see Shiro,” he said.

Lance stopped. Then he half-turned and stared at Keith. “Are you … telling me to go have sex with Shiro?” he said, a little concerned by this.

“He’s in heat,” Keith said. “You’re in a rut, apparently. Seems like it kills two birds with one stone.”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “I already turned him down at the Holy Castle. He doesn’t want _me._ ” It didn’t hurt any less no matter how many times he said it. Lance swallowed around the words and hit the door release. “Don’t lock me out, I’ll be back later.”

 

#

 

It was not as dark out as Lance had hoped. Once the sun dipped below the distant horizon, the first of five — _five_ — moons had risen. It was, he thought, frankly overkill to have so many pieces of space rock orbiting such a small planet, and the refracted sunlight echoed off all five celestial bodies and kept the ambient light at about dusk. The wind had picked up slightly, sending the low clouds skittering through the night sky and making the seawater even choppier than before.

Lance sat on a rock edifice that was brushed with sand and dune grass. There were a few Agis fishing on the beach, although they curiously avoided entering the water itself. Lance watched the waves wash in and retreat, the tides moving much faster than on Earth. Lance would have to ask Pidge how having five moons would affect the ocean waters on this planet because the waves moved in such strange and different patterns. It felt very alien.

He snorted at himself, and leaned forward, kicking his heels off the small slope of a cliff.

So. Keith was an omega. _That_ was definitely unexpected. Keith and Shiro _both._ The thing that was bothering him now was that he didn’t get that same tingling feeling when he thought about Keith, even now that he knew Keith’s status. Granted, Keith wasn’t on his heat, so maybe that would change … but the more he thought about it, the more Lance felt like the tingles he got over Shiro had been present for a lot longer than a week.

_Shiro spread out on the bed for him, face flushed, chest heaving, one arm extended toward Lance in invitation…_

Lance smacked himself in the face with his palm and swallowed hard. He couldn’t think about that, he wasn’t _allowed_ . Even with Keith’s … admittedly odd and unexpected blessing. Keith _wanted_ Lance to go have sex with Shiro? Was it opposite day on Planet Mullet? Pidge clearly had her wits about her and maybe he really should have listened and taken the chance to go back to the ship. He was sure Hunk was lonely with just Coran and the mice. Being like _this_ around Shiro — heck, around _everyone_ — wasn’t doing him any favors.

He shifted and tried very hard to think about something else, because Lance could already feel himself begin to stiffen in his trousers. This had happened a few times in the past few hours but he had very doggedly ignored it, because if he slipped off to the head _every_ time it happened Pidge would know he’d gone off to wank and … _gah_ , he didn’t want her to know that. He didn’t want _anyone_ to know that, but as of right now literally everyone knew he was an alpha in his first rut. Except Hunk. And possibly Allura.

Frustrated at himself, Lance stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He had left the short cape from his outfit in the room and wore only the loose trousers and tunic, and now slightly regretted it because he bet the cape would have looked pretty awesome fluttering in the breeze rolling off the water. The air was cool but not cold, however it was doing very little to cool his face or his thoughts. Lance cast a glance at the Agis castle over his shoulder, and then hopped down the small ledge to the soft sand of the beach below. The castle was a beacon in the twilight-steeped night; as long as he didn’t get miles down the beach it would be easy to find his way back.

The shorter, fuzzy Agis paid Lance little heed as he wandered along the shoreline. He took off his shoes and walked in the sand made soft by the washing water, and was surprised when the water was much warmer than he expected. It made his feet tingle too; although not unpleasantly. Lance wandered slowly, watching the water and trying to keep his mind clear when the briefest hint of something made him lift his head and look down the curve of the shore; toward the rocky ridge that jutted into the sea in the distance.

Lance glanced over his shoulder again at the castle. He had gone farther down the beach than the last Agis who was fishing, and they looked to be packing it in for the night. He stood ankle-deep in the water and felt the hint in his chest turn into a strangely insistent _tug._ After a long moment of consideration, Lance shrugged and began to make his way farther down the shore. Who knew what _this_ was, probably some other alpha thing that he wasn’t aware was a thing, yet. Not for the first time in the past few days, Lance wished he paid more attention in the tertiary sex education classes.

The Agis tracks ended well before the rocky outcropping, where the quick-washing water brushed the sand clear of all traces of passage. Lance wasn’t paying very much attention to his feet any longer though, because the tug in his chest had grown stronger still and now he could clearly smell the thing that had enticed him from all the way down the beach, even over the fragrant, flowering plants that littered the dune grass.

It was Shiro.

Lance was somewhere between formulating a witty crack, and questioning why Shiro had strayed so far from the castle in his … condition; but he really couldn’t find the words for either. Shiro’s scent was still faint and thready, or at least until Lance climbed over a rough pile of rocks washed slick with ocean mist and was broadsided by Shiro’s scent like he hit a brick wall, thick and overwhelming. Lance reacted physically and almost slipped down the last few rocks he had to cross, only catching himself just in time.

On the other side of the rubble was nestled a little cove. There were rocks that ran farther down the beach and acted as a slight levee to the tide, as the waves washed out it left small tidal pools glimmering in the moonlight. The sand was fine and soft here, not gritty, although it stuck to Lance’s wet feet all the same. None of that really captured Lance’s attention, though, because the main attraction of the cove was Shiro himself, sitting on his heels on a large blanket — Lance recognized the material, the blanket on the bed he had ceded to Keith shared the same pattern. Shiro had gathered up the heavy top blanket on his bed and come all the way out here, so far away from the castle, to … sit on a blanket and stare at the night sky.

Did he really want to avoid Lance that much?

Lance said nothing for a very long while. He let the scent of Shiro’s heat wash over him, let it feed the fire that had been burning in his belly for a day and a half. Shiro was twice his size, he could snap Lance in half like a twig if he so wanted, but Lance wasn’t afraid of him. He wanted to touch, and taste, and _feel…._

Shiro tilted his head forward, that white forelock of hair brushing down over his forehead before he opened his eyes and looked over at Lance. Lance wasn’t surprised that Shiro knew he was there. If he could smell Shiro’s heat from that far down the beach, he knew that Shiro could smell the rut he had sent Lance into that was scrambling what little remained of Lance’s cognitive thinking skills.

“Lance,” Shiro said, his voice strangely hoarse.

Lance crossed the soft sand then, and stood in front of Shiro, so that Shiro had to look up at him. He was flushed and sweating, and the sheer volume of scent that was rolling off Shiro made Lance dizzy. _He hasn’t taken a suppressant today,_ Lance thought, nearly giddy. _He wants to be claimed._

_But._

He fell to his knees on the blanket in front of Shiro, causing Shiro to blink and shrink back slightly. Lance reached tentative fingers for Shiro, touching his face with both hands and Shiro seemed to melt into his touch, eyes falling closed again. “Why?” Lance asked, a million questions contained in one syllable, brushing his thumbs over the rise of Shiro’s cheeks.

Shiro responded in a soft voice. “I’m an unfit leader like this, Lance. You should leave now, forget you saw me out here and go back to the castle—”

“Fucking,” Lance hissed through his teeth. “I can’t go back even if I wanted to, you smell too damn good for _that_ —” _mine mine mine mine mine_ “How can you even…” the anger rose in his throat and his hands cupped Shiro’s face again. Lance didn’t want to stop touching him, and he was teetering dangerously on the edge of _something_ unseen. “You’re not unfit,” Lance said finally, grasping that one thread and holding onto it like it was his only lifeline.

Shiro reached up slowly and put his hands over Lance’s. They were so big and warm; and for a moment Lance even forgot about the prosthetic. Then, Shiro gently pulled Lance’s hands away from his face and looked down.

Something cold and hard solidified in Lance’s gut.

“No,” Lance said, strangled, and tried to wrench his hands free of Shiro’s. “Fuck, _Shiro—_ ”

“I can’t let you,” Shiro said, and inhaled quickly. He wouldn’t meet Lance’s eye.

Lance writhed in Shiro’s grip, steaming. “In the castle,” he said. “Do you know _why_ I hesitated?” Shiro didn’t respond nor lift his head and Lance plowed on, the desperation burning in his lungs. “Because of where we _were._ It didn’t have anything to do with you and not wanting … this, whatever it turns out to be, it was because Allura was going to be looking for us at any time and who knew if those creepy-ass Segn had cameras set up and were watching people or some _shit_ , if none of that had been going on I would have—” Lance stuttered to a stop, gulping air; thinking about Shiro on that bed again, so soft and pliant and looking up at him with that _expression_ he would see in his dreams for years. “I would have knotted you,” he said, and the words resonated in his chest. He felt Shiro tremble at that, felt the shaky inhale of breath because he knew how much Shiro wanted it, and how much he was holding himself back from admitted to it.

Shiro’s grip started to slacken, and that was all that Lance needed to wrench his wrists free. He didn’t touch Shiro again, though Shiro looked him in the eye for a split second and Lance could see the divide between the want and fear, so he curled his hands on his knees and sat back on his heels, just like Shiro was sitting. Shiro looked away again, and let out a long sigh. “I can’t,” he said finally, miserably. “I can’t be your first, Lance. I just can’t.”

“The assumption that you’re my first is _really_ pissing me off,” Lance said. Like he and Hunk hadn’t messed around at the Garrison, like Lance hadn’t had some fun with that girl in the other class. Like he was inexperienced. Like it was Shiro who would taint _him._

“You know what I mean,” Shiro said softly.

“I don’t _care_ what you mean,” Lance snapped. He took a deep breath, and then another, trying to bring himself to calm because the urge to shove Shiro over and just take what they both needed was beginning to overwhelm him. “Can you really, honestly look me in the eye and say you don’t want this, with me? If you can, I’ll…” _curl into a ball and sob_ “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll get Keith to fly me back to the ship and by the time you all get back you should be off your heat and we’ll just pretend nothing happened on this awful planet.”

“This planet’s not awful,” Shiro said, avoiding the question altogether. “It would make a nice vacation spot.” The silence stretched almost too long, as Shiro looked past Lance, not at him; watching the way the light from the five moons shimmered across the ocean’s waves. There was something wistful in Shiro’s voice that settled into Lance’s lungs that made him want to wrap his arms around Shiro, and he flushed a little at the thought. “I would like to come back here again … when it’s all over.”

That was, of course, assuming the war would ever be over. Lance wasn’t sure it would be. “I hate it,” Lance said softly. “If it’s where _this_ ends, I’ll hate it forever.” Shiro looked at him, startled, and Lance met his eye. “Tell me no,” Lance said, and put his hand back where it had been, one hand cupping the side of Shiro’s face. Shiro closed his eyes and turned his cheek into lance’s palm and sighed out a large sigh, like the ones the big cats sighed out at the zoo. The comparison amused him and Lance smiled, rubbing soft circles into Shiro’s cheek with his thumb.

_He didn’t say no._

Lance pushed himself up on his knees and Shiro opened his eyes just slightly, then let them drift closed again as Lance brought his other hand up to Shiro’s face, holding his head still. Shiro could have yanked himself away easily, he was larger that Lance, and stronger too, but he held still, eyes closed, as Lance brushed his lips over Shiro’s. The kiss was gentle and chaste and overwhelming all at once; and the second kiss was a lot less chaste than the first. It was Shiro who turned aggressive in the kiss, deepening it insistently as he groaned into Lance’s mouth; and Lance grinned. Shiro’s eyes fluttered open. “This is _such_ a bad idea,” Shiro said, and put his hands on Lance’s face, brushing his fingers back into Lance’s hair.

“I don’t really care,” Lance said, panting now; because Shiro was touching _him_ and the feel of his heat and presence was making Lance’ skin prickle. “Do you?”

Shiro hesitated long enough that Lance’s heart started to sink, but then Shiro kissed him again; sloppy and wet and with more experience to him than Lance himself had. Lance fortunately was a quick learner and he gave as good as he got. They kissed for a good long while before Shiro lifted his head, face flushed dark in the twilight. “No, I don’t care either,” he admitted finally and Lance laughed, breathless, before kissing him again.

 

#

 

Lance sat cross-legged, half on the blanket and half still on the sand as he watched Shiro pull his sleeveless tunic off over his head. His chest was heaving and his head was pounding, Shiro’s scent was so thick in the air he was practically swimming in it and Lance really couldn’t think of the last time he had smelled something so wonderful.

They had all seen his scars by now; Shiro’s skin was covered in them. Echoes of his time in the gladiator ring that not even the healing pods in the Castle of Lions could diminish. The scars weren’t as dark on his skin here, the moonlight making everything softer around the edges. Lance wet his lips as his eyes traced over Shiro’s skin; the slight sheen of sweat making him sparkle. He blinked when he realized that Shiro had stopped moving, and then, almost guilty, looked to Shiro’s face.

Shiro was watching him with a pained expression, and Lance realized that he had been staring. Shiro didn’t like to talk about his time as a Galra prisoner and Lance couldn’t blame him for that, but his expression seemed to be waiting on a judgment of some kind that wasn’t going to come, at least, not from Lance. “Why did you stop?” Lance asked instead, and Shiro kept watching him intently.

Then, Shiro’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “You’re going to say something cheesy if I say anything derogatory about my scars, aren’t you.”

Lance put one hand flat on his own chest, offended. “Nothing I say is ever _cheesy_ ,” he said, and Shiro laughed, breaking the tension that had grown in the air. “It’s not cheesy if it’s heartfelt, and I mean everything I say! Stop laughing at me.” Lance was grinning, because Shiro had sprawled back, covering his mouth with one hand as he laughed harder. “I _do_ mean everything I say.”

“Even when you called that Ck’ara pretty?” Shiro leaned back on his prosthetic arm still smiling, and for the first time in a long while not looking away.

Crap. “Remind me, which one was the Ck’ara?” Lance was trying to remember. “We’ve run across a _lot_ of gorgeous aliens.”

“At the bazaar.”

“The one that we had to rescue Coran from?”

“We’ve had to rescue Coran from _all_ the bazaars.” Shiro was still smiling genuinely. “The planet that had the rings, not a gaseous one like Saturn. I can’t remember what it was called.”

“Ouni?”

“If you say so. Remember the Ck’ara?”

Lance _did_ remember the Ck’ara now; an insectoid alien with a segmented body and refractive eyes that looked like it had escaped from a John Carpenter movie. It had been terrifying in a ‘this is my life now’ sort of way; he had flirted with it out of habit and because it flirted _back_ , something that not all of the objects of his affection were wont to do. It had turned out okay in the end, as they were able to get the Ck’ara to help rescue Coran from being carried off by some Jawa-like creatures, but … it wasn’t something that Lance would necessarily define as _pretty_. Maybe it was a gorgeous specimen of its species, Lance had no desire to ever find out.

“Yeah,” Lance said, and leaned forward on his hand, maintaining his eye contact with Shiro. “Don’t get offended, but I think you’re at least a smidgen prettier than the Ck’ara.” He held his thumb and forefinger a small span apart and Shiro _laughed_ so freely, and it was the best sound Lance had ever heard.

“Just a smidge?” Shiro said, wiping his eyes.

“Okay, maybe a little more than a smidge,” Lance admitted, crawling forward and onto the blanket proper. He shoved Shiro back with one hand but Shiro wrapped his hands around Lance’s arms and pulled him down on top of Shiro as he fell back, thudding into Shiro’s bare chest.

The contact left Lance breathless. He stared down at Shiro, stunned — Shiro was looking up at him through his eyelashes, almost demure; and he closed his eyes when Lance kissed him again.

Lance smoothed his hands down Shiro’s chest as they kissed languidly. Despite everything, now that he was here in this moment Lance didn’t feel rushed at all. Based on Shiro’s response to him he felt the same way, and Shiro pushed his hands up Lance’s arms, fingers catching on the sleeves of his tunic. “Off,” Shiro murmured, and Lance agreed with this sentiment. He sat up, straddling Shiro’s waist; and pulled at the tunic, flipping the catches expertly and shedding it into the sand. Shiro was watching him hungrily; with the same eyes that Lance had seen back on the ship earlier in the week, the same eyes he had seen in the Holy Castle, and it was setting Lance _aflame._ Lance leaned over Shiro, placing his hands on Shiro’s chest, and growled possessively. “I’m going to _devour_ you.”

Shiro shuddered under him, but he laughed too and that somewhat dispelled the mood that Lance was clawing at. Lance glared down at him and Shiro covered his mouth with one hand, as if that would stifle the laughter that only the two of them could hear. “Stop laughing at me,” Lance said again, with a frown this time and Shiro sighed out an amused sigh and lifted his hand straight from his mouth to Lance’s cheek.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not laughing _at_ you, I promise, it’s…” Shiro shook his head and grinned ruefully. “It’s this situation, you know? I can’t believe that _you_ are—”

“An alpha?” Lance finished, hurt. Of course he wouldn’t believe Lance himself couldn’t believe it, but the fact that Shiro would even bother to _say_ that directly to his face spoke volumes.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” Shiro pushed himself up on his prosthetic elbow, his flesh hand still on Lance’s face. Lance turned his face away and Shiro said, “hey, look at me, Lance.”

Lance, with effort, dragged his gaze back to Shiro’s. “It’s not what I was gonna say, okay? Don’t put words like that into my mouth.” Shiro’s thumb traced over Lance’s bottom lip. “I know what it’s like being … not what’s expected.” The smile was pained this time and the way that tugged at Lance’s heart _hurt._ He needed to start a list of People Who Hurt Shiro That Need Punished for later, and _whoa_ where did that possessive streak come from, holy crow. “Lance,” Shiro said, and drew Lance’s gaze back to him again. “I was going to say I can’t believe that you’re _my_ alpha.”

Wait, hold that thought for later. _What_?

“What?” Lance squeaked.

Shiro shifted again, and now was fully sitting up, Lance kneeling over his lap. This time it was Shiro who cradled Lance’s face, because Lance knew what those words all meant individually but was having a hell of a time putting them together, because … Shiro couldn’t mean … he couldn’t _mean…_

Shiro brought his face in close to Lance’s, tilting their foreheads together and closing his eyes. “This is why I’m a shit leader,” he said softly. “I should be denying this entirely, there are so many more important things, pressing things; maybe if we ever actually defeat Zarkon I could be free to let myself have what I want but, _but—”_ he took a deep breath, eyes still closed. Lance watched his face, his own eyes wide, because Shiro wasn’t saying this, he _couldn’t_ be, but he was and Lance felt like he was drowning in it, gasping for air, chest heaving as Shiro said, “I want to be selfish in this, Lance, please…?”

And Lance could feel the electricity in the air as he put his hand on the back of Shiro’s head, kept their foreheads pressed together and the words didn’t even sound like his voice when they finally spilled from his lips. “I have to be inside you to claim you, Takashi.”

Shiro _moaned_ and kissed Lance and said between the kisses, “please, _please…_ ”

 

#

 

Shiro was so wet his trousers stuck to his legs as he tried to shimmy out of them. Lance peeled the thin material off, pulling it down and dropping it into the sand without a second thought. Shiro was naked in front of him now, leaned back on his elbows and legs cocked slightly apart, chest heaving. A moon had moved, its orbit faster than the others, changing the slant of the moonlight and highlighting Shiro’s form in its ghostly light. “Fuck,” Lance said, on his knees still. Shiro opened his legs without Lance even asking, his cock laying back against his belly full and hard. Lance had seen it before — not like this, admittedly, but on the sly; casting an occasional glance down the showers after a mission.

Lance said, softly; “you’re gorgeous.”

Shiro tilted his head back and sucked in a breath through his teeth. Lance wanted to touch him _everywhere_ and couldn’t decide where to start, so he put both his hands on Shiro’s knees and spread them even further. This exposed his glistening hole, inner thighs slick with fluid and scent and everything that Lance needed. He had never smelled anything more delicious in his life.

He felt Shiro sigh as he slid his fingers through the fluid to find his hole and rub it. “God,” Shiro said, his voice hitching. Lance merely rubbed his fingers over the ring of muscle, didn’t even dip them in and Shiro flopped straight onto his back, prosthetic hand over his mouth to stifle a moan.

Oh _no_ , that wouldn’t do.

Lance sat up on his knees, closing one hand around Shiro’s wrist and yanking his hand away, surprisingly easy. Shiro’s eyes flew open as Lance leaned over him. “We’re the only ones out here,” Lance said emphatically. “I wanna hear you, Shiro.”

Shiro wet his lips and let out a low pant, before groaning very vocally at Lance dragging his clothed groin against Shiro’s naked cock. “So sensitive,” Lance murmured, and Shiro reached out, gripping Lance’s shoulder with his free hand. Lance took that hand off his shoulder as well and pinned both of Shiro’s hands above his head, feeling the soft sand shift beneath the blanket spread under Shiro. Then he ground down against Shiro again, and Shiro made another noise, almost a sob, and Lance shuddered in exhilaration. _He_ was the one doing this to Shiro, drawing out each noise and gasped breath and it was an addiction all its own. “You want to come?” Lance said, and Shiro choked out another strangled groan and nodded desperately. Lance didn’t release his wrists, just ground down against him again. “Then come.”

Shiro arched his back against the sand and did just as Lance commanded with a hoarse cry. Lance could feel Shiro’s cock pulse through his trousers, felt the sticky slick of Shiro’s seed dripping between them, and felt Shiro go slack in his grasp for a few seconds, gasping hoarsely. Lance was breathing hard now too, panting through his open mouth and dizzy with want. The feeling coursing through his veins was _incredible_ and god, he wanted to see Shiro release like that again.

Lance cradled Shiro’s head in his hands, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s as Shiro came down off his high. “You good?” Lance asked when Shiro’s eyes fluttered open finally, and Shiro laughed a little, catching the back of Lance’s head with his prosthetic hand and kissing him.

“Is that all?” Shiro murmured against his mouth, a teasing glint in his eye.

Lance lifted his head. “Is that _all?_ ” he repeated, insulted, and shifted his hips, feeling Shiro’s cock twitch against his through the thin material.

Shiro bit his bottom lip, eyes hooded and still smirking slightly at Lance. “For someone who talks a big game about this not being his first time…”

“Oh, is _that_ how it’s gonna be?” Lance pushed himself up on one arm and Shiro settled his hands over Lance’s back, holding him on top for the moment. Shiro was clearly enjoying this, and Lance huffed and wiggled out of Shiro’s arms but Shiro caught both his wrists and Lance knelt over him, knees between Shiro’s spread legs and off-balance.

“Mm, that’s how it’s gonna be,” Shiro said, wetting his lips and looking over Lance. His scent had changed slightly, if anything it was more intoxicating to Lance all of the sudden but he didn’t try to yank his arms away, staring down at Shiro and feeling like his heart had been caught in a vise. “I want you inside me, Lance.”

Lance didn’t have time to process that, or even smirk before Shiro surged off the blanket and rolled them. He hit the ground shoulder-first, hard enough to knock the wind out of him and didn’t have enough time to recover before Shiro was kissing him again, desperately. “What, _what the_ —” Lance gasped out as his pants were very hurriedly disposed of. He got up on his elbows and managed to get upright as Shiro dropped the remainder of his clothes into the growing pile by the blanket. “Okay, so maybe my foreplay game isn’t the greatest,” he said, as Shiro straddled him. “So I need practice, everyone needs practice—”

“Lance,” Shiro said, resting his prosthetic hand on Lance’s shoulder, his attention elsewhere. “Shut up.”

Lance shut up, though not entirely because Shiro ordered him to but instead because Shiro’s hand was on his dick and it was _amazing._ But then it was pushing against something hot and tight and wet and then Lance couldn’t be quiet any longer because Shiro was _on his cock_ and sliding slowly down and holy fuck this was actually happening, right now. Shiro stopped moving for a second when he encountered the knot, and Lance curled his hand over Shiro’s hip and thrust up and they both felt the bump push past that tight ring of muscle. Shiro groaned, sitting on his heels and panting openly, the moonlight painting his skin silver.

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed and it felt like his heart had stopped in his chest. He couldn’t come up with words to speak, so he settled on steadying Shiro with his hands and shifting a little to give him better balance, resting his chin on Shiro’s chest and looking up at him. Shiro wrapped his arms over Lance’s shoulders but didn’t look down at him, his eyes closed and face upturned slightly like he was looking at the sky.

“Move for me,” Lance said softly, and Shiro rode him.

 

#

 

The third time that Lance felt his knot swell he knew he was done. He panted hoarsely into the back of Shiro’s neck as they lay together on their sides and kissed his fevered skin, barely moving his hips. “Shiro,” Lance said without lifting his head. He felt Shiro clench, determined to suck him dry, but Shiro didn’t respond other than that. Lance threaded his arm under Shiro’s and rested his hand on Shiro’s chest, feeling his heart beating so hard and fast it felt like it was in time with Lance’s own.

Shiro’s hand drifted up and covered Lance’s on his chest, his fingers curling over Lance’s. Lance smiled and put his forehead against the back of Shiro’s head, rocking his knot slowly inside Shiro and feeling more than hearing the breathy whines that the action produced. “Good boy,” Lance murmured, and Shiro squeezed his hand.

“Lance,” Shiro’s voice was exhausted, empty but in a satisfied way. There was a symphony of meaning behind the syllable, and Lance kissed Shiro’s shoulder this time, tracing his teeth over a divot in the muscle. This scar was darker and heavier than some of the others, although Lance did his level best not to stare at Shiro’s old wounds. “ _Lance_ ,” Shiro said a second time, insistent, and Lance lifted his head, resting his chin where his mouth was and squeezing Shiro’s chest with his hand. It turned out that Shiro’s chest was far more sensitive than Lance had expected, and the action produced a shudder and a whine from Shiro, as he tightened around Lance again. This was _supposed_ to distract Shiro, but it didn’t. “Lance, _please_ ,” Shiro whimpered.

“’Please,’ what?” Lance said, and was surprised at how rough and wrung-out his own voice was, dragged through gravel and heavy.

“Claim me,” Shiro said, and Lance’s cock pulsed, his balls clenching in preparation to come again. There wasn’t anything left, there _couldn’t_ be, he’d come more than he thought possible but Shiro’s voice was pleading and practically begging him and how could Lance deny him _this?_ He was buried deep and knotted. Lance rubbed his cheek over the back of Shiro’s neck. “Here?” he rumbled, and felt Shiro shudder again at his touch.

Lance snaked his other hand down lower, wrapping his hand around Shiro’s cock and squeezing it, stroking slowly. It was still hot to the touch, slick and sticky with the remnants of Shiro’s previous orgasms. Lance smirked into his skin at the fact that they had both lost count, but they were quite possibly into the double digits by now. While stroking him, Lance bit Shiro.

“ _Ah,_ ” Shiro’s voice came out in a breathless gasp when Lance’s teeth broke the skin. He surged, as if trying to get away, but Lance’s arms and knot kept him in place. Lance squeezed Shiro’s cock again, tighter, stroking harder and coaxing a weak climax from him. “Takashi,” Lance said, laving his tongue over the wound created by his teeth. “You okay?” he asked, and Shiro’s hand, still over Lance’s on his chest, squeezed in reassurance.

Lance let out a small laugh and laid his head on the blanket, staring at the sweat on the back of Shiro’s neck. His bite mark glistened angry red,, small beads of blood escaping to mix with the sweat on Shiro’s skin. Lance freed his hand and used his thumb to smear the red beads of blood into Shiro’s skin. Shiro let out a large sigh, his shoulders moving with the motion and Lance lifted his hand quickly, as if he had been scalded. “Takashi?” His name was a question, and Shiro laughed tiredly.

“Keith is going to flip out if you call me that in front of him,” Shiro’s voice was so worn out that Lance felt a twinge of guilt. He couldn’t roll Shiro over from their position on their sides, and his knot wouldn’t go down for another few minutes yet. Lance settled on touching his forehead to the back of Shiro’s neck.

“I should have asked,” Lance said. “Sorry, I just … assumed.”

“No, it’s okay.” It was so difficult not clearly seeing Shiro’s face like this, he felt like in these moments Shiro wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him. “I like it, Lance. It reminds me of….” Shiro’s voice trailed off and he didn’t finish the thought. Lance lifted his head, and Shiro laughed again, sleepily. “It doesn’t matter,” he said finally. “It doesn’t matter at all. Lance … I’m glad it was you.”

Lance smiled, resting his hand over Shiro’s heart again as he felt Shiro slip off into an exhausted doze. “I’m glad it was me too,” he murmured, settling against Shiro and closing his eyes.

 

#

 

There were still two moons in the sky when dawn started to peek over the horizon. Shiro woke up first, sleepy and content, until he nearly elbowed Lance in the face with the realization that they had spent the entire night on the beach. “Dude,” Lance complained, sitting bare-ass upon the sand and a palm to his eye. “If you give me a black eye everyone’s going to have a _million_ questions.”

Which, Lance wasn’t sure if that was the right or the wrong thing to say because Shiro knelt in front of him, one hand on Lance’s chin as he tilted his face up in the pre-dawn light, looking for damage. Shiro’s thumb on his chin made Lance’s cheeks pink and after he was done inspecting Lance’s face Shiro leaned in and kissed him, luxuriously slow. “Shiro,” Lance complained again, because that kiss alone got him hard.

“It’s dawn,” Shiro said, sitting on his knees in front o Lance. He didn’t look any different that Lance could tell (except, okay, the love bites and oh yeah, his claim mark, _holy shit_ ), but he was looking at Lance with a very soft gaze and Lance felt so warm and content and happy just sitting here on an alien beach with Shiro that he didn’t even know what to say.

Fortunately, Shiro did. “We need to get back,” he said, breaking their gaze and looking away down the beach, where the walls of the Agis’ castle were visible over the swell of the dunes. “Hopefully before anyone else wakes up.”

“Yeah, because we’re gonna be able to sneak through Allura’s room without her noticing,” Lance said as Shiro pushed off his knees and stood, stretching his arms out above his head and cracking his neck. Lance watched this display approvingly, and then rested one hand on his dick. “You should be _done_ ,” he hissed at it. Shiro scuffed a hand through his short hair and looked back at Lance and grinned again, and Lance was totally fucking smitten.

“You are a _mess_ ,” Shiro said, and Lance rewound the smitten bit for a second, because _excuse you._

“Excuse _you_ ,” he said, and folded his arms. “I happen to be totally fucking sexy.”

Shiro laugh and leaned down, grabbing Lance by the arm and pulling him unsteadily to his feet. “Yeah, totally fucking sexy,” Shiro said. “And also a complete fucking mess, you’re covered in sand.”

“Yeah and so are you,” Lance said. “Whose bright idea was it to have sex on the beach, anyway?”

“I brought a blanket,” Shiro reminded him with a conciliatory kiss, which Lance accepted. Then he yelped as Shiro scooped him up in his arms.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Lance squalled as Shiro deftly navigated them away from the blanket. “Put me — Shiro put me _down_ —”

“I’m not fond of the idea of us walking in covered in sand,” Shiro said, already wading into the surf. “And other things. Figured we could rinse off first.” Lance yelped as Shiro dumped him into the warm seawater. He came up sputtering and winged both arms in the water, splashing Shiro, who laughed and waded out farther, splashing him back.

The water was warm but not salty. Lance was able to get Shiro back, swimming out to him and dunking him under a wave, and Shiro came up laughing, grabbing blindly for him. Lance couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Shiro like this, he was almost carefree and the realization stung that he _hadn’t_ , not really.

“I feel like you’ve made a mistake,” Lance said, dripping into the sand and staring at the blanket they had slept on, a spunk and sand filled mess. “We don’t have anything resembling a towel.”

Shiro used his shirt to dry his head. “So we walk back in just pants. I could walk back there naked at the moment, I don’t really care.”

“What?” Lance was struck. It was tearing at him, the chance for Shiro to walk into the Agis’ castle buck fucking naked with Lance’s marks all over him; but on the other hand he didn’t want anyone ogling his omega but him. _Pidge_ was there.

 _Competition_ , his brain whispered, but not as loudly as before.

“Okay, I am _totally_ calling you on that,” Lance said. “Right here, right now, walk naked back to the castle.”

Shiro was crouched, folding up the blanket because he couldn’t just _leave_ it, and he cast a sly glance back at Lance and Lance knew Shiro had his number. He flushed in indignation. “You _sure_ you want me to?”

“You’re a _jerk_ ,” Lance said, and yelped when Shiro playfully threw the blanket at him.

 

#

 

Doors always seemed a thousand times louder when you were trying to sneak around. Even the hydraulic doors in the Garrison sounded like they needed some liberal application of WD-40 whenever Lance was trying to sneak back into his room without waking Hunk (who was, invariably, sitting up half-reading an engineering manual anyway so Lance really didn’t even know why he bothered to stress about it), but the doors in the Agis’ castle seemed _particularly_ loud this morning when they creaked aside. Lance stood guiltily in the open door, most of his and Shiro’s clothing bundled under one arm and his shoes in his hand, waiting for the inevitable blast of shame coming from an irritable, just-woken Altean.

To his surprise, there was silence.

The room was dim; there were pale gold panels that ran along the bottom of the walls that provided a faint illumination. Lance stood dumbly in place until Shiro helpfully shoved him with one hand through the door, trying to juggle a seawater-and-sand laden blanket with the other. The room was still quiet, and the large bed that sat beyond the open wall was very much unoccupied. “Uh,” Lance said softly. “Where’s the princess?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro said distractedly. Lance glanced at the bed again, then back to Shiro, his brow furrowed in even more confusion because that was not the reaction he would expect from Shiro with Allura being not where she was supposed to be. Shiro’s scent was warm and familiar and unperturbed, and without even thinking about it Lance stepped in close to Shiro, almost intoxicated by the spike in his scent. It was too dim to tell if Shiro’s ears had turned pink again, much to Lance’s disappointment. “No goodnight kiss?”

Shiro tapped the door release on the antechamber that had been declared his bedroom. There was daylight through that door, spilling through the open window and illuminating the bed with just a single thin sheet, its heavy blanket currently the sodden mess bundled under Shiro’s arm. “I think it’s a little early for a good night kiss,” Shiro said, and then glanced over when he realized that Lance was no long by his side. “Where are you going?”

Lance paused, with his hand over the door release on the room he was supposed to be sharing with Keith. “To… bed?” He said it slowly, like he wasn’t sure how the words were wrong but recognized that they were, based on Shiro’s expression “To bed, in the room I’m sharing with Keith?”

“You’d really rather sleep on the floor, than with me?” Shiro’s tone was indescribable and Lance felt his heart jump into his throat. He moved without even thinking about it, dropping his shoes in his haste.

“What? No! Shiro—” Lance put his hand on Shiro’s arm and Shiro tilted his head, expression illuminated now by the sunlight in his room. He was grinning, and Lance shoved him with one hand. “Jerk!”

Shiro tossed the blanket on the floor and pulled Lance into the room behind him.

 

#

 

Shiro was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but Lance was much too keyed up to sleep. He lay on his side in the big plush bed and watched Shiro sleeping beside him. There were small bruises forming on Shiro’s neck, patterned down toward his shoulder and lower still. Lance couldn’t see his claim mark when Shiro was facing him but he knew it was there and just the thought of it existing set Lance’s stomach to butterflies. He, a barely-minted alpha, was already bonded with an omega. _His_ omega. Lance let the shiver wick down his spine and smiled, tucking his hand under his cheek as he lay beside Shiro.

Maybe it was a good thing that he was too wired because it meant that he _didn’t_ scream like a little girl when Pidge opened the door to their room as violently as one could open a sliding door that ran on hydraulics. While he didn’t scream, Lance _did_ flail himself upright, acutely aware that they had both shed their trousers before crawling into bed and the only thing maintaining any dignity in front of Pidge was a very thin sheet. _Very_ thin. “What the HELL, PIDGE!?”

“I _knew_ I should have sent you back to the Castleship,” Pidge said, far too loud.

“Pidge,” Shiro said in a very tired voice, without lifting his head. “Can you give us another hour?”

“I already gave you an hour,” Pidge said. “You both stink so bad of pheromones and sex I could smell you a klick off.” Pidge glared at Shiro, who still hadn’t lifted himself up or otherwise reacted to her presence. It was utterly baffling to Lance, who had never really seen him interact with any of the other Paladins like this; usually Shiro was the one nominally In Charge and he … just wasn’t playing along today. “Are either of you _planning_ on showering, or were you both just gonna fuck around all day while the rest of us do all the work?”

“Pidge,” Shiro said again, but now his voice had a warning tone.

Lance looked down at Shiro, who hadn’t even opened his eyes, then over to Pidge. She was still in her own pajamas, and her hair was even more of a rat’s nest than normal. “Did you stay up all night rewriting the accords with Coran?”

“Someone around here has to be an adult,” Pidge muttered, arms folded. “It’s not like I was going to get any sleep _anyway._ ”

“How’s it look?” Lance asked, and Shiro actually groaned impatiently into the pillow beside him.

“I’ll explain once everyone’s up,” Pidge said. She inhaled and then scrunched up her nose as if she regretted the action. Then Pidge gave Lance a stinkeye. “C’mon,” she said, and hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “We’re gonna talk.”

Lance blinked. “I’m not going back to the Castleship,” he said defensively.

“We’re _going_ to _talk_ ,” Pidge said. “Dumbass.” When Lance still didn’t move, Pidge sighed out an annoyed noise. “Fine. Five minutes,” she said. “Then I’m coming back in, dicks out or no dicks out.” She turned on her heel and the door closed behind her, leaving Lance to stare in confusion at the antechamber door. Shiro, on the other hand, let out a relieved noise and snuggled back into his pillow, his breathing already evening out back to sleep. Lance looked over at him and then smiled, leaning over Shiro and brushing his white forelock of hair aside.

Slightly drowsy and mostly muffled, Shiro said, “please go talk to Pidge before she barges back in here and starts yelling again. I’m very tired.”

Lance laughed and kissed the top of Shiro’s head, pausing a moment to inhale his scent. It had changed ever so slightly from yesterday; the sharpness of his heat was fading fast, and Lance could _almost_ smell the crisp alien ocean in his short-cropped hair. “ _Go_ ,” Shiro said, and pushed blindly at him with his prosthetic hand. Regretfully, Lance rolled out of the large plush bed.

Then, a dilemma.

His clothes were _trashed._ Covered in sand and still damp and they probably stank to high heavens, but it wasn’t like Shiro’s clothing was in any better shape. After some waffling, Lance decided that if Allura wasn’t out there he wasn’t going to worry about it anyway, and pulled his trousers up over his hips and left it at that. He’d figure out what else to do later.

When he stepped out into the main room it was still dim, but Pidge had set up shop at the table from the night before, the teal glow of her holographic Altean computer terminal providing more light than before. There was a strong bitter smell to the room that reminded Lance of coffee but not quite, and when he walked over to the table he realized that Pidge had a mug of the not-coffee by her elbow.

“Did you really stay up all _night?_ ” he asked, and Pidge looked up at him.

“Sit down,” she said.

“Is this really gonna take that long? I’m missing out on prime cuddle time here.” Lance folded his arms.

Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose as she regarded him. “I know you’re really proud of yourself right now,” she said, “but there are other, really more pressing things than your sex life, Lance.”

Lance flushed. “If you didn’t call me out here to talk about alpha stuff, then why didn’t you make Shiro get up too?” He looked around. “Or Keith? Why are you letting _Keith_ sleep in? And where is Allura, anyway?”

Pidge put her chin in the palm of her hand and stared at Lance, although now the reflection of her holographic screen made the lenses on her glasses opaque. “I’m trying to let Shiro rest as much as possible because I’m _assuming_ ,” she gave Lance a withering look, “that you at least made an attempt to screw his brains out.”

“I _did_ screw his brains out, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, and I’m willing to bet in your rut-induced singled minded pursuit of that notch on your bedpost you didn’t stop to think about using protection, either.” Pidge said. “Shiro’s on probably the second-to-last day of his heat so _hopefully_ there won’t be any complications.” Lance stared blankly at Pidge, and she said in a dry tone, “you _do_ know that male omegas can get pregnant. That’s practically the whole purpose of heat cycles.” Another long, stretched out moment of silence and Pidge said, “for fuck’s sake, Lance.”

“I knew that!” Lance said hotly, and really, he _did_ know that but …well, he had been otherwise engaged. Repeatedly. And it was honestly the last thing on his mind given everything that had occurred to him in the past, oh, forty-eight hours or so. Pidge was still giving him a disbelieving look. “I did know it,” he muttered. “I just … forgot.”

“Yeah, don’t forget again,” Pidge said, and took a sip from her mug. “Go get a shower in, loverboy, there’s only one head for this entire room thing. If Keith hasn’t unlocked his door by the time we push Shiro into the shower then I’ll pop the lock.”

 

#

 

Fortunately, it seemed that the Agis often entertained species alien to their planet here, because with their diminutive stature Lance was certain that a shower head would maybe hit him in the face. Instead, it was adjustable, so he stood under the water and stared at the smooth tile wall and tried to dismiss the panic that Pidge’s words had made blossom in his chest. Yeah, so they hadn’t used protection at all. That was _extremely_ stupid. They’d — _he_ would be more careful in the future. Lance rubbed his hands over his face and realized with consternation that his skin was slightly rough; it seemed the seawater had left mineral deposits all over him that weren’t rinsing off easily. Now more than moderately distracted, Lance swore colorfully under his breath as he scrubbed angrily at his skin.

By the time he emerged from the shower the daytime lights were on in the main room. Pidge hadn’t moved at all but Shiro had finally stumbled out of the bedroom and was sitting in only his trousers across from Pidge at the table. He too had a cup in front of him, although it looked mostly untouched.

Lance made a beeline straight for Shiro, who was beginning to open his mouth to speak and then paused when he realized how intent Lance was. “Lance,” Shiro said when Lance put both of his hands on Shiro’s face, rubbing his palms along Shiro’s cheeks.

“  _Rough_ ,” Lance said, brow furrowed.

“Uh, I haven’t shaved yet…” Shiro’s voice was a little strained because Lance was still pushing back on both his cheeks. “Lance, what the heck—”

Shiro did not get a chance to complete the thought, because the door to Keith’s room opened and Lance glanced up at the interruption. Allura walked out wearing Keith’s shirt and precious little else. Lance forgot how to person for a solid minute, standing there with his hands on Shiro’s face and his jaw somewhere around his knees.

Allura’s hair was done into a messy thick braid that was tossed over her shoulder, and she scratched the back of her head and yawned huge as she walked right past the table and toward the head. Pidge didn’t even look up.

“I,” Lance said. “She—”

“  _Lance_ ,” Shiro said, and caught both of Lance’s hands by the wrist, finally removing them from his face. Lance didn’t even seem to notice, still staring at the closed door to the head.

“Is there coffee?” Keith asked hoarsely, and Lance’s attention snapped all the way around because Keith had emerged unnoticed and was now standing on the side of Shiro’s seat looking slightly the worse for wear.

“There’s something,” Pidge said. “I wouldn’t call it coffee.”

“You…” Lance said, toward Keith, and Keith glanced at him disinterestedly, before looking over to Shiro.

“Feel better?” he asked, and Shiro smiled at him.

“Much,” Shiro responded, releasing Lance’s wrist finally. He leaned forward in his seat, tilting his head at an angle and Lance realized suddenly that he was showing off his claim mark for Keith. Keith blinked, and then put his hand on the back of Shiro’s chair, staring at Shiro’s neck before his gaze suddenly snapped up to Lance’s, his expression stormy. “Keith,” Shiro said mildly, sitting back in his seat. “I asked Lance to do it, don’t take it out on him.”

“Take it _out_ on me,” Lance repeated, feeling his temper rising again. Where was this urge to bare his _teeth_ at Keith coming from, Keith wasn’t a threat to him…

… _especially_ if he was banging Allura behind everyone’s backs.

The reminder of that made Lance’s jaw snap shut before he could growl, because he still wasn’t sure how he wanted to feel about that and he needed to unpack it later too. Keith was still giving him a stormy look, but it was more thoughtful than challenging and maybe Lance shouldn’t jump to conclusions _quite_ as quickly as he had been.

Keith let out a large sigh and rubbed his hand through his messy hair. “As long as you’re happy,” he said to Shiro, and Lance prickled again because Keith was very intentionally ignoring him.

Shiro settled back in his chair and looked to Lance, before returning his gaze to Keith and smiling a _very_ satisfied smile. “ _Very_ ,” he nearly purred, and Lance went pink to his eyebrows at Shiro’s tone. Holy _shit._

Before anything else could be said Allura stepped out of the bathroom wearing her jump suit, although her hair was now loose and clearly damp. Lance looked around for some sort of timekeeping device because he was pretty sure that Allura just set a new land speed record for cleaning up after. “Pidge, page Hunk and Coran on the Castleship and tell them to get down here,” she said, ready for business despite being the only one at the table actually dressed.

“What about the Agis’ weird numbers thing?” Pidge asked. She counted off the five of them. “Coran and Hunk makes seven, and isn’t it the Agis whose culture revolves around seven being a significantly unlucky number?”

“Fuck the Agis,” Allura said pleasantly. “We’re getting this treaty handled.” After a long beat of total silence in which everyone present stared in utter distress at Allura, Allura looked around and grew slightly unsure. “That _is_ the correct usage?” She was looking directly at Keith with concern as she said that, and Keith turned a fetching shade of red

“Princess,” Shiro said in a strangled tone. “That’s not exactly the most _diplomatic_ use of the term.”

“Fuck diplomacy,” Allura said primly, and Pidge, grinning, fist-bumped her.

 

#

 

Hunk and Coran arrived not long after. Shiro was stepping out of the shower, a towel around his neck and wearing his stained trousers still when he was nearly run down by a bustling Hunk clad in his Paladin armor. “Sorry Shiro,” Hunk called, carrying a container in both arms that be placed on the table central to the entire room.

“Did you bring our Paladin armor?” Shiro asked, rubbing the side of his head with the towel as he walked over.

Hunk nodded and whacked the container with one arm. “Thank you for actually keeping your regular armor in the ready room lockers,” he said. “I had to go into Lance’s _room._ ”

“Hey,” Lance said, seated still at the table. “I have my armor in the ready room. Don’t go snooping, big guy, I know you’re looking for your birthday present.”

Hunk rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, clearly asking some higher deity for a modicum of patience. “Anyway, I’m starved. Did you guys eat? I brought food in case you didn’t, I didn’t know how weird the food was gonna be here. Was it weird?”

“It’s alien food, it’s always weird,” Pidge said, emerging from the center antechamber in her own armor, fluffing her hair out. “Have you figured out how to make anything normal yet?”

“Sausage,” Hunk said. “I did some experimenting—”

“Not Kaltenecker!” Lance yelled, flinging his legs out and sitting forward.

“I didn’t use your pet _cow_ , Lance,” Hunk said, insulted. “Would you go get dressed or something?”

Lance repeated what Hunk said under his breath in a faint falsetto, but stood up and went for the container that Hunk left on the table. “C’mon Shiro,” he said, and without thinking Shiro padded docilely after him.

Hunk watched them both go with a perplexed expression, and then glanced back to Pidge who had seated herself at the makeshift console she had put together. “That was strange, right?” he said. “That was really, really weird.” He looked back to the closed antechamber door, brow still furrowed, and then back to Pidge, who had unwrapped a faintly purple doughy ball of carbohydrates. “Or is it just me?”

Pidge took a large bite of her breakfast and said, the food packed into her cheek like a chipmunk, “Lance presented as an alpha.”

 

#

 

Shiro stood just inside the door to the antechamber and watched as Lance plunked the container that presumably held their Paladin armor on the bed. Lance was very aware of Shiro’s eyes on him and he made sure to stretch out languidly before popping the seals on the container to open it. Shiro let out a small sigh behind him, and then took several steps forward and sat on the edge of the mattress beside the container. Lance looked at him a moment but he didn’t seem particularly melancholy, just tired. “You okay?”

When Shiro smiled at him, Lance realized just how fake most of the smiles he presented to the team were. The knowledge that he even _did_ that was heavier than he expected, and Lance didn’t resist the urge to step around the container and place himself directly in front of Shiro. “You didn’t answer me,” he said as Shiro lifted the towel off his shoulders and rubbed his head vigorously with it, leaving his short hair spiked and that white forelock wild, brushed back in with the rest of his hair.

Shiro let out another sigh. “I don’t know,” he said, and oh, that wasn’t the answer that Lance expected. That shouldn’t have hurt. “I’m not sure.” He leaned back on one hand, the towel falling into his lap and Shiro looked up at Lance with consideration. Lance felt his stomach drop.

_He regretted it._

Lance backpedaled through years of health courses trying to recall how one would undo a claim bond when Shiro caught his wrist and Lance looked down at him, startled. “I don’t regret it,” Shiro said, almost harshly, and Lance went still. _Had he said that out loud?_ “I don’t, Lance, believe me.” Shiro let out a small bark of laughter. “Blast, I’m _terrible_ at this.”

“Well, I’m not so hot at it either,” Lance said realistically and Shiro stilled, then laughed again but it wasn’t so harsh this time. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and Shiro let out a deep sigh and turned his gaze back up to Lance’s.

“I don’t feel like I’m permitted to have something this nice, Lance,” he finally said. Shiro reached up and cupped his right hand over his neck, over Lance’s handiwork. “Alright, and don’t tell Keith but maybe rushing the claim wasn’t the _smartest_ thing, but I just look at you and…” he gestured with that same hand and smiled helplessly. “If I’m being honest I’ve been in love with you for a while, so all this happening so quickly is just too good to be true.”

Lance swayed in place a little, caught somewhere between hearing the words Shiro was speaking and understanding them. Then, without saying anything else he promptly threw himself at Shiro, managing to loop his arms around Shiro’s neck before they both thumped back into the mattress, hard enough to cause the container to shift slightly. Shiro only made a mildly startled squawking noise at Lance’s sudden move, but Lance buried his face against the side of Shiro’s. “I had _such_ a crush on you back at the Garrison,” Lance said so quickly that the words almost jumbled. “I can’t even wrap my head around you _liking_ me.” He inhaled shakily but didn’t lift his head as Shiro put his arms around Lance comfortingly.

“Lance,” Shiro said.

“I mean, I know my dick is great and all,” Lance continued, and Shiro squeezed him with both arms, which made all the air vacate Lance’s lungs in a high-pitched laugh. He lifted his head and Shiro was right there, watching him, his expression relaxed and open and Lance would take on the entire Galra empire single-handed just to make sure that Shiro was safe.

When he kissed Shiro it was soft, regretful that they _didn’t_ have the time to really explore this right now. Lance lifted his head when he heard the door to the antechamber slide open and he glared down at Shiro, whose face had flushed under his scar. “You didn’t lock the _door_ ,” he accused, and Shiro shrugged his shoulders loosely, arms still draped over Lance’s back.

“Oh, my god,” Hunk said from the doorway.

“Told ya,” Pidge’s voice came from across the chamber.

“Oh hey, Hunk,” Lance said, twisting just enough that he could see his friend over his shoulder. “Just so you know, I’m holding you to that shoe thing.”

“What shoe thing?” Shiro asked, his arms drifting down to wrap comfortingly over the small of Lance’s back. Man, that _really_ made him reconsider asking if maybe they could just go ahead and sit this one out.

“I’ll explain later,” Lance said, and Hunk made a distressed noise from the doorway as Lance nuzzled lower and kissed Shiro again.

 

#

 

Neither the Segn nor the Agis ambassadors looked particularly happy to be in the same proximity at the other. Pidge and Coran had found the location they were at now, in the mountains at an approximate halfway point between the two capital cities, and Allura stood between the two dignitaries, the digital copy of the revised treaty that Coran, Pidge and Hunk had put together displayed in the air between them. “Now,” Allura said pleasantly enough, the venom in her undertone apparent enough for even the most oblivious to be struck by, “I think that this is a fair compromise for all.”

They had been speaking at length for at least an hour. Lance had spaced a few times because he hadn’t had much sleep in the last two days and was amazed that not only was Shiro functioning but contributing to the discussion at hand, standing at parade rest behind Allura on her right. The new, revised treaty had excised the Segn’s covert attempts to seize the Agis’ land and assets, and was rather a fair deal even if there was no clear winner. Lance somehow repressed his fifth yawn in the last five minutes and Keith muttered in Lance’s direction, “I’m not catching you if you nod off standing up.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Lance murmured right back. “Who tops, you or the Princess?”

“ _Lance_ ,” Hunk hissed, as Keith sputtered, turning the same shade of red that he wore on his armor.

Somehow, by the grace of whatever gods existed this far outside the Milky Way, both the alien races finally agreed to the terms of the neutral treaty. They watched the two diplomatic parties excuse themselves via shuttles, both blasting off in different directions. “They seemed pissed,” Hunk said, and Lance nodded his head in agreement. “How long do you think the treaty’ll hold?”

“It’ll hold until it doesn’t,” Allura said.

Hunk clapped Lance on the shoulder as he headed back toward his Lion, Coran in tow. “We’ll see you back at the Castleship,” he said. Pidge was already in the Green Lion, having had Just About Enough Of This Nonsense Thank You, but Keith hesitated and Allura smiled at him when he did.

“Don’t leave without me, Keith,” she said, and Keith turned pink but headed toward the Red Lion without another word.

Shiro had his helmet under his arm and a questioning expression on his face. “Princess…?” he said, concerned.

Allura looked between Shiro and Lance, arms folded, and Lance felt like maybe there was about to be a dressing down. “This won’t affect the team?” she said finally, and Lance exhaled, about to open his mouth with a cheerful denial when Shiro spoke instead.

“I can’t promise that it won’t,” he said, and Lance blinked, then looked at Shiro in stunned silence. Allura didn’t look as surprised as Lance felt, but she was silent too, waiting on Shiro. He had looked away from them both, toward the thick alien foliage of the mountains, his hand tight on the helmet to his armor. “If you feel that our relationship will threaten the team’s dynamic I will step down.”

“What?” Lance couldn’t contain himself. “Shiro, _no._ You can’t, who will pilot Black? Who’ll _lead_ us—” he felt sick, his stomach twisting, but Shiro still wasn’t looking at him.

“Keith will,” Shiro said, and okay, _now_ Lance actually was sick.

“Absolutely not,” Lance said. “You’re way too valuable, Shiro, I can’t let you.” He twisted on the ball of his foot and faced Allura, holding out his bayard. “Princess, I resign.”

“ _Lance,_ ” Shiro said sharply.

“It’s much easier to replace a leg,” Lance said. “You can’t replace the head.”

Allura held out her palm to Lance. “Lance, put your bayard away, I’m not accepting _anyone’s_ resignations.” Lance remained standing with his bayard held out for a moment more, then dropped his arm. “This isn’t a military unit where fraternization is punished,” she said, folding her arms again. She sighed and tilted her head back, as if she was looking at the peaceful sky above them. The Yellow Lion launched, which made the wind pick up violently for a few seconds. “You are _both_ valuable Paladins of Voltron,” she said finally. “Look after each other.”

Without another word Allura stepped away, following the path that Keith had taken to the Red Lion.

Lance stared after her, entirely unsure about what had just happened. He looked over to Shiro, who held his back straight and wasn’t looking at Lance. Before Lance could open his mouth to ask _what the fresh hell, Shiro,_ Allura stopped in her tracks and waved her arm over her head, one hand cupped around her mouth to amplify her voice. “We’re going to warp out of system in twenty hours,” she yelled. “Make certain you’re back by then!”

Shiro watched the Red Lion launch with an impassive face, as Lance crouched in the grass, elbows on his knees. “What the _hell_ ,” Lance said as the echoes of the Lion’s engines faded. He pushed off his knees and stood up again. “I mean it, what the _hell_ , Shiro? You can’t just,” he gestured, nominally at their armor, “you can’t give all this up for me.”

Shiro said, quietly, “you’re not replaceable, Lance.”

“I know where I stand with this team,” Lance said, and _fuck_ don’t let his voice crack. “I’m not as smart as Pidge or Hunk, I’m nowhere near the pilot that Keith is and _you…_ you’re irreplaceable, Shiro. We’d fall apart without you.” He inhaled and the words kept coming despite himself. He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m a sorry excuse for an alpha” he said finally, then crouched again, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair so he didn’t have to face the disappointment on Shiro’s face. Fuck, _fuck._

Shiro didn’t say anything for a long while. Then, he slowly sat down in the grass beside Lance. “I was supposed to be an alpha,” he said, and Lance finally looked up at that.

“Supposed to…?” Lance repeated, confused.

“My parents are both alphas,” Shiro continued. “And my brother is, too.” He leaned back on his hand and sighed, his gaze fixed firmly in the past. “They were so disappointed when I got my first heat, they forced me to hide it from everyone. Bundled me off to military school so they wouldn’t have to deal with it.” Shiro’s smile was crooked, self-deprecating. “They didn’t expect me to succeed there.”

“I didn’t know you have a brother,” Lance said. He rocked back and went from a crouch to sitting beside Shiro.

“We’re more than our biology, Lance,” Shiro said, his tone very soft. “And I know you can’t see it now, but you are _so_ valuable to the team. I wish you could see what I see in you.”

“I really suck at this alpha thing,” Lance said finally, and Shiro snorted.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe give yourself more than two days before you make that call.” He lifted his arm and without a word Lance slid in under it, settling against his side. “I don’t think you’re doing so bad.”

Lance smiled, and Shiro kissed the side of his head. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yup.” Shiro smiled too. “Don’t let Keith know, he’s already going to give me hell the moment he gets me alone.”

They sat in comfortable silence in front of the shuttle for a while, before Lance yawned and said, “well, we have twenty hours. What do you want to do?”

Shiro said, utterly unimpressed, “you have to _ask_?”

 

#

 

The room itself wasn’t nearly as grandiose as the antechamber rooms in the Agis castle, but the large bed was set against a wall that seemed to be a single pane of glass. The view outside was spectacular, it showed the spaceport city on the planet’s other side that Shiro had picked at random, far away from any of the Agis and Segn who might recognize them, even in Paladin armor. Lance didn’t have much time to enjoy the view before Shiro draped his arms over Lance’s shoulders and rested his forehead against the back of Lance’s head. Lance went perfectly still, Shiro’s scent washing over him as he felt Shiro’s breath stir the fine hair at the nape of his neck.

Then Lance turned under Shiro’s arms. He lifted his head in surprise but leaned back in when Lance went to kiss him and oh, kissing Shiro was fast becoming Lance’s favorite thing. “Shiro,” Lance said when they broke apart for that spare second to breathe, and Shiro’s eyes cracked open as his tongue sneaked out to wet his lips.

There was something almost overwhelming about the way that Shiro was looking at him, but Lance was willing to meet that headlong. This was different than before, this was deliberate, slow, _intimate._ The intensity of his gaze wasn’t cold, either — it was warm and open and when he smiled at Lance staring at him it was like all the tension melted from the room. “You have such a serious expression, Lance,” Shiro said, catching Lance’s chin with his right hand, his thumb resting on Lance’s bottom lip. He was still smiling softly. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Lance frowned. “Are you saying I can’t be serious?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Shiro chided softly, and Lance knew it, let Shiro lean in and kiss him, let Shiro walk him back until his legs hit the mattress and Lance sat without thinking. He looked up at Shiro, who seemed slightly distressed at the sudden lack of Lance in his arms. Lance leaned forward, catching Shiro’s hip with his hand and drawing him that final step to the edge of bed.

It was weird how familiar the action was already; maybe Lance had dreamed about this, unbuckling Shiro’s belt slowly, popping the catch and drawing him out of his pants. Lance glanced up as he slowly stroked his hand up and down the velvety flesh of Shiro’s cock. “Your heat’s about done, isn’t it?”

Shiro had gone red, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands until he settled one on Lance’s head. “Yeah,” he croaked out, and Lance grinned because he hadn’t really even _done_ anything yet and Shiro was already starting to come undone at the seams.

“When you’re off your heat,” Lance nuzzled his face in close, letting the head of Shiro’s cock slide along his cheek as he buried his nose in the short hair that framed it, intoxicated by Shiro’s scent at its most potent source, “and if you want to, I wouldn’t mind you putting this in me.”

Shiro caught his breath and seemed like he was going to say something else, so Lance ran his tongue up the underside of Shiro’s cock, before he took the head into his mouth. He didn’t have to worry about Shiro saying much else for a little while, at least.

Later, when the setting sun painted orange fire across the far wall Lance rolled over onto his stomach, Shiro’s arm sliding off his back. He pushed a pillow aside, trying to find where he had dropped his phone when Shiro got his second wind and then Lance propped his elbow on the mattress, chin in hand as he looked out over the bustling spaceport city.

The sun was sinking fast into the distant mountains that Lance was _pretty_ sure they’d flown over on their trip halfway around the planet; as far away from both capital cities as they could manage without going off-world. Two moons hung low on the horizon, Lance knew now that three more would cycle past before the sun rose again.

Shiro made a soft noise and Lance glanced over, watching as Shiro shifted, his hand searching for Lance’s warmth. He sighed, contentedly, when his left hand brushed the rise of Lance’s ass, half under the thin top sheet and Lance smirked, turning pink when Shiro squeezed it. “Did I wake you?” Lance asked as Shiro blinked his eyes open, and then yawned.

“Mm, no.” Shiro said, lying most likely but it didn’t really matter. He brushed his hand back sleepily over his face, watching Lance and Lance watched him right back, fascinated by the open vulnerability of Shiro’s expression. He’d seen it so much lately, it felt like, but he really couldn’t get enough. His omega felt _safe_ with him, and that realization made Lance indescribably happy. He wiggled closer, and Shiro lifted his arm again, letting Lance slide in under it. He tilted his head as Shiro rested his hand on the back of Lance’s neck, the tips of his fingers scratching through the fine hair at his nape.

“You realize,” Shiro said softly, “we won’t be able to do this much on the Castleship.”

Lance took a deep breath, because at first blush that read to him entirely different, but he knew what Shiro meant. There was precious little downtime on the ship, there was always something important to be doing. If not training, then general upkeep and repairs; and of course there was the ever-growing frequency of missions as the news of Voltron’s re-emergence flitted across the breadth of the Galra empire. It was going to be difficult for the two of them to find time to just be alone. Lance slid out from under Shiro’s hand, bringing it around so he could kiss Shiro’s palm.

“Let me worry about that,” he said, and Shiro laughed. Lance brought Shiro’s palm to his face, resting it on his cheek and then covered Shiro’s hand with his own. “I’m serious,” he said. “You have enough to worry about leading Voltron. Let me lead you.”

It was fascinating to watch how Shiro grappled with those words, the emotions flickering through his eyes faster than Lance could track. Finally Shiro blew out a large sigh, turning slightly pink and pulled Lance in close. “You are absolutely not allowed to sound that cool,” he said, as Lance whuffed out a noise of protest against Shiro’s chest.

“I am _totally_ allowed to sound that cool,” Lance muttered. “I’m _very_ cool.”

“You are,” Shiro said with a laugh as Lance propped his head on his folded arms, still on Shiro’s chest. Lance pouted at him and Shiro ruffled his hair affectionately. “My awesomely cool alpha.” Lance snorted but Shiro met his eye, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Lance felt the mood shift first, saw Shiro’s tongue dart out and wet his lip, felt his pulse quicken through his skin.

“Takashi,” Lance said softly, his hands already moving across the broad planes of Shiro’s chest; and Shiro tilted his head back into the pillows and groaned, his hand finding the back of Lance’s head as Lance’s mouth found his skin.

The rest of the universe could wait, just a little longer.

 

#

 

“I still can’t believe that _you_ are an alpha,” Hunk said, and Lance folded his arms and jutted his chin out and preened.

“Isn’t it great?” he said, a huge grin on his face. Lance wiggled his hips suggestively. “Hey Hunk, wanna see my knot?”

“ _Ew_ , god, no, _no_ , Lance. No.” Hunk held up both hands and began to edge away. “I don’t wanna see your dick, dude.”

“What about the shoe?” Pidge called helpfully from the Green Paladin’s console.

Lance twisted in place. “That’s _right_ , Mr. If-you’re-an-alpha-I’ll-eat-my-shoe. Eat your crow, sir.”

“I’m not actually going to eat my shoe,” Hunk said. “I’ve only got two anyway, even if it wasn’t a figure of speech—”

“I can clone one in the matter transporter,” Pidge said cheerfully, opening a system on her console.

“Clone that shoe, Pidge,” Lance said. “I’m gonna make Hunk eat it!”

Shiro sighed, arms folded and standing at the central control dais with Allura and Keith. “I am glad to see things are back to normal,” Allura said as they watched Lance chase Hunk around the bridge, or at least until Hunk tripped going up the stairs and wiped out.

“Lance,” Shiro called, as Lance helped Hunk up. “Hunk does not have to eat any shoes.” Lance groaned audibly in disappointment.

“Well, as normal as they’re gonna be,” Keith said with a sigh. Shiro glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, and Keith shrugged.

“As long as you’re all here,” Allura said, speaking to draw their attention as she touched her console, bringing up several images of planets on the forward viewscreen. “Coran intercepted a distress call from this system in Galra-held space earlier today.”

“At least, we think that it is a distress call,” Coran said. “I’m still running it through the translation matrix.”

“We can’t waste any time if it is,” Shiro said, eyes fixed on the foreign red characters that had appeared alongside the pictures. Allura nodded her head in agreement, as everyone headed to their respective stations.

“I thought you’d say that,” she said, hands outstretched over the consoles. “Let’s get to work, Paladins.”


End file.
